


Joshua Trees

by mishasan7



Series: Joshua Trees [1]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Blood and Gore, Canon Compliant as much as possible, Celestial beings beating the shit out of each other, Chloe Decker Finds Out, Dysfunctional Family, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, Hurt Lucifer, Identity Reveal, Inappropriate Humor, Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV) Whump, Lucifer makes a new friend, Lucifer the Lightbringer, Mojave Desert, Multi, Post-Season/Series 02 Finale, Protective Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Sex Jokes, Slow Burn, Toilet humour, Whump, Wile E. Coyote - Freeform, Winged Lucifer Morningstar (Lucifer TV), Wings, bit gross but funny, just the way i like it, to say the least, you aren't squeamish are you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-14
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-12-29 19:50:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 36,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12092211
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mishasan7/pseuds/mishasan7
Summary: So much for ‘no more going backwards’, Lucifer thought bitterly. I’ve gone back to looking like a bloody hood ornament.Lucifer wakes up in the middle of the Mojave Desert, hurt, pissed, and with his newly-resurrected wings again on his back. He needs to figure out who did this to him - although he's pretty sure he knows - but his first priority is getting back to LA and proving to Chloe who he really is.But it's not going to be  easy...





	1. Where the Hell

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PokerFace84](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PokerFace84/gifts).



> \- My first ever multi-chapter fic with any kind of plot. Heads up for quite a LOT of whump in places, both for Lucifer and Chloe, sorry about that, but don’t worry, I like happy endings :) I did try to break it up with lighter moments, and I’d appreciate any feedback on how I went!  
> \- Takes up directly where the season 2 finale left off and diverges from canon from there. Future instalments in this series will have nods to events and characters in subsequent seasons, but with my own variations.  
> \- This is for the wonderful PokerFace84, who is a fantastic storyteller ... nay, the Queen of Drama... and I'm so grateful to her for her tips and encouragements on writing! :)  
> \- Italics are usually thoughts, but also used for emphasis. I hope it isn't confusing. I attempted to write it in third person omniscient, so I could see and hear everything. So basically I am God.  
> -Some naughty language, but all warranted. I mean, what the f, Lucifer's dad??

 

 

 

 _Lucifer_...

 

He stirred at the soft voice. It echoed faintly, like it was calling across a vast distance. As he slowly returned to consciousness he gradually became aware he was lying down, contorted awkwardly on a rough, gravelly surface. His skin felt hot and raw, and he ached all over.

He blinked his eyes open, squinting in the harsh sunlight. He was outdoors, lying in the dirt, covered in grit and with the taste of dust in his mouth. He looked around in confusion and climbed unsteadily to his feet, feeling strangely off-balance. He’d lost his shoes somewhere, and his shirt and jacket were also missing. Which meant his cellphone was gone too. Not to mention his money clip, cigarette case, lighter and trusty flask, damn it to Hell. He could really do with a drink.

His head pounded, and as his fingers gingerly inspected a tender spot behind his left ear he winced as they encountered a sizeable lump. What the Hell had happened last night? He hadn’t been partying, not that any amount of booze or narcotics had ever caused him to black out. The most he ever achieved was a short-lived buzz, and that only when he tried really hard. Well, except for recently when Nurse Psycho Santa had roofied him with the haldol, but that was only because the Detective had been nearby.

 _Wait…_ a memory surfaced. That’s right; he’d been talking to the Detective. First he’d visited Linda at the hospital, then he’d left, had called Chloe to tell her he was coming right over, and then everything went black… he closed his eyes.

 

_Bugger._

 

He’d stood her up again. She was _not_ going to be happy. Well at least this time he had a good reason, and who knows? Hopefully the fact he’d been Devil-napped and dumped in the desert would make her more sympathetic when he finally revealed the truth about himself. Dad knows he needed all the help he could get there.

He looked around, shielding his eyes with a hand as he tried to get his bearings. It couldn’t be much later than mid morning, judging by the sun, and he seemed to be in the middle of a desert. A vast empty landscape unfolded in every direction with no buildings, power lines or people in sight, the only features being sparse scrubby vegetation and a series of rocky hills not too far north.

It looked very familiar - like the drive from L.A. to Vegas actually, and he was certain that at least he was still in southern California. Or perhaps as far as Nevada. He even knew the name of the twisted, spiky-topped plants that dotted the landscape; Joshua Trees. They shared a name with his favourite U2 album as well as his favourite brother… whom he’d coincidentally last seen in a desert not too dissimilar to this one. He chuckled wryly. Well wasn’t that just perfect.

He looked down at himself. He was in a bit of a state, to say the least. Filthy, barefoot, shirtless, and much of his exposed skin blistering and peeling. Not from the sun, surely; he was technically fireproof so a little U.V. shouldn’t be a problem. His lips were dry and cracked and he was so thirsty he’d even settle for drinking plain old water.

While he was immortal and couldn’t actually die of thirst, if he went without it for long enough on this plane of existence his body would start to shut down; he’d find it harder and harder to function, even if he didn’t actually die. And ‘not-dying’ of thirst would be even more agonising, since it would go on indefinitely. He could be in a spot of bother here.

He assessed his injuries. Aside from the curious burns over his upper body, the bump on his head and a general soreness and tiredness he seemed okay. There were a couple of places that he noticed didn’t hurt; his feet for one, which was handy considering he was going to have to leg it out of there.

And… and oddly enough the phantom back pain he’d carried for nearly six years was gone. He hadn’t noticed at first but his scars didn’t hurt… what the Hell?

Then suddenly Lucifer knew why that was, and as soon as the realisation hit, like a reflex his wings sprang out behind him. His skin crawled as he felt their weight, his sense of disbelief tempered by the familiar way his feathers warmed in the sun, brushing lightly against his back and ruffling slightly as his balance shifted. After everything he’d gone through to be rid of them, they were back. Perhaps it was only his imagination but they seemed heavier than he remembered, and rather than feel whole again, Lucifer felt hollow.

 

 _So much for ‘no more going backwards’._ He thought bitterly. _I’ve gone back to looking like a bloody hood ornament._

 

He clenched his fists in silent fury, wishing for a tree, a boulder, anything in this flat, featureless landscape that he could punch some satisfying holes into. As for his wings, he refused to even look at them. His gaze was drawn instead to the sky, where he imagined his Father was looking down at him with a smug grin plastered across His punchable face. Well, He probably would be, if He _had_ a face.

Because it could only have been Dad. Sure, other beings had the power to restore his wings - his Mum for one, but for them to be summarily returned with nary a word or even a threat was classic Dad. And besides, Mum was gone. He was fairly certain she hadn’t bestowed them as a parting gift, not after he’d flat out rejected being part of her plan to storm Heaven. And when he’d sent her into the void and she’d told him how much she’d miss him, his silence had spoken volumes.

So. Now that Lucifer had removed the threat of the Goddess and averted war in Heaven, instead of his Father showing the tiniest bit of gratitude and leaving him alone for once the bastard had put his wings back. Humans were always yammering on about how Dad worked in mysterious ways but the meaning of this seemed pretty bloody clear to Lucifer; they were a great big ‘get back to work’ to the errant Lord of Hell, and a not so subtle reminder that his children, especially this one, were not in control of their own existence.

 _Well to Hell with that,_ Lucifer said to himself. _I’m still retired. I don’t want the fucking things any more now than when I cut them off. I’ll just get Maze to amputate them again_ … the thought made him shudder, and his wings twitched violently. _It was bad enough the first time when I didn’t have a clue what to expect_ , he thought uneasily. The thought of her doing it again was… well, horrific. They were going to need a _lot_ of whisky.

In the meantime, though…

Lucifer made a rude gesture on each hand and waved them at the sky. “No deal, Dad,” he called blithely, fiercely stamping down a more passionate response, refusing to give his Father the satisfaction of seeing how he really felt. He folded his wings snugly to his back and they vanished; his Father might have forced the bloody things back on him but Lucifer would be damned - again - if He would make him use them.

As he’d told the Detective months ago, they were a gift, but as with any gift from his Father, they came with strings attached. God gave wings to His angels so they could act as agents of His will; their price was eternal servitude. And as his father bloody well knew, Lucifer was _done_ with that.

He sighed. Back to square one. Getting back to Chloe.

 

_Lucifer..._

 

Just then he heard a voice floating to him across the sand. It seemed to be coming from a long way away and was a little indistinct, but it was Chloe, he was sure of it! He could hear her calling his name. He laughed in surprised delight. How had she managed to find him so quickly?

 

“Detective! I’m here!” he yelled, his eyes scanning the desert in all directions, trying to figure out where her voice was coming from.

 

_Lucifer, where the Hell are you!_

 

“Detective! I’m here! Where the Hell are _you_?!” He frantically waved his arms in the air, turning in a circle, trying to spot her in the featureless scrub. How could he not see her yet? There were no trees or big rocks, nothing for miles around! Suddenly her voice spoke quietly, directly into his ear, and he jumped, startled.

 

_Lucifer, why are you doing this?_

 

Lucifer dropped his arms, and his shoulders slumped in disappointment. She wasn’t here after all. Even though she technically wasn’t praying, her thoughts were aimed right at him and with his wings returned he could hear her, her familiar voice becoming clearer with each passing moment.

As he listened other voices intermittently joined hers; Amenadiel, Linda, Dan, Ella, even Beatrice. All unwittingly asking him where could he be, was he okay, why was Mommy sad, what the Hell did he think he was doing running out on them again? He couldn’t hear Maze, he’d never been able to hear her, but he could _feel_ her anger towards him, and her pain. She must still be with Linda.

She had barely acknowledged him at the hospital, had merely glowered at him from outside Linda’s room, flatly refusing to even be in the same room as him. He couldn’t really blame her. She’d known right from the start what his mother truly was, what she was capable of, and he hadn’t listened to her. Time and again he’d made allowances for his mother’s behaviour, had refused to recognise the danger she’d posed, had refused to allow Uriel to take her, and Doctor Linda had nearly died because of it.

When he’d rushed to the hospital after hearing what had happened, he’d never seen Maze so emotional, so vulnerable, so… _human_ before. She was so furious with him he had no idea what she might do. He would much rather she kick him in the balls a dozen more times than continue with this ominous silence. It was unnerving.

And he was going to further poke the hornet’s nest when he got back to Los Angeles; when he finally proved to Chloe who he really was, he’d be outing Maze as well. For the second time without her consent, and to her own roommate. It couldn’t be helped though. As Linda had inadvertently helped him realise, the Detective had a right to know. Her free will was at stake.

He closed his eyes and reached out with his newly returning powers. Even after severing his wings he’d always been able to sense other beings around him, as long as he wasn’t too distracted. He felt a momentary flare of anger; he’d been nervous and preoccupied because of his phone call to Chloe last night, otherwise whoever had knocked him out would never have gotten the drop on him. _Just wait until I get my hands on you, you cur. You’ll pay for this._

His Father had never been one to do His own dirty work so He’d probably gotten one of His good little soldiers to do it. Anyone human was ruled out - the Detective had been nowhere near him - and besides, if a human with a grudge had wanted to try to kill him and dump him in the desert they’d have needed a car and a road to get him here, and this place was too remote. Unless they’d gone to the ridiculous lengths of throwing him out of a plane… the absurd mental picture made him bark with sudden laughter. _Look at meee, I can flyyy_ … _splat_.

He frowned and shook his head in irritation. _For goodness’ sake you twit, focus_. The who, the why, and the manner of payback would have to wait for now. First he had to get out of there. He tried again.

His senses ranged outwards, encountering mostly emptiness for hundreds of miles. Small creatures, birds, a few coyotes but nothing human. He knew he was nowhere near Los Angeles.

 

_Lucifer, don’t do this to me again._

 

He tried to ignore the guilt that tied his stomach up in knots upon hearing the sad soft resignation in her voice and concentrated instead on the direction it was coming from. To the southwest… but such a long way away. His heart sank at the realisation it was too far on foot with no water - a couple of hundred miles at least.

He was most probably somewhere in the Mojave or maybe Death Valley... but any one of the deserts in this area ranged over millions of acres, and contained the driest wilderness in the country. Surely there was somewhere closer he could reach to get to her faster, a road, a town out here in the middle of nowhere? He let her voice fade away and listened again.

Wait - there was something. Several hundred souls murmuring softly in the silence, not as far but in a direction that would take him even further from home. There seemed to be a small town on the far side of the rocky hills to the north, maybe sixty miles away. It was already mid morning; with his wings returned he was stronger, but even if he ran he couldn’t possibly make it by nightfall.

And once he got there he still had to get to L.A., but at least he should be able to find a phone to let Chloe know where he was. He was already hours late, and she was upset, but he refused to cave to His Father’s blackmail in order to get home. By using his wings he could be at Chloe’s side in seconds, but that would mean Father getting his own way. Unacceptable.

He’d only been gone a night, two by the time he got home. Hopefully she wouldn’t be mad once he explained what happened. His mouth twisted as he added _yes, really in the grand scheme of things she’ll see it’s no big deal. Especially when I prove to her everything she has hitherto believed about existence is a sham. That’s a much more valid reason to be pissed off at me._

He had a sudden, if belated, flash of inspiration. _Amenadiel’s time-slowing shenanigans have started up again; maybe he’s regained his wings as well!_ Lucifer placed his palms together and called his brother’s name in his mind, but didn’t receive an answer. _Annoying. And typical._ And he wasn’t about to call any other siblings - what had they ever done for him? Sided with Dad and left him to rot in Hell? Not to mention one had tried to kill his Detective and another had no doubt helped Dad put him in this predicament. So a big fat NO.

 

It looked like he was on his own.

 

Lucifer heaved a sigh, turned to face the rocky hills in the middle distance, and set off at a run.


	2. Wily Devil

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer receives a little help from a kindred soul.

Lucifer pounded across the barren terrain, long legs pumping, rocks and dirt flying from under his bare feet. The ground was littered with jagged-edged stones and running on them hurt like Hell, but he was invulnerable and could easily ignore a little pain.

As the miles fell behind him he wondered just what it was that humans found so appealing about this ridiculous running business. Admittedly they hadn’t been created with wings and had _had_ to invent alternative methods of getting around, but when there were such wonderful inventions as Corvettes and Harleys why did they bother anymore? Even after ditching his wings he’d never felt the need to. People ran from Lucifer Morningstar, not the other way around.

He stopped for a moment to unhook from his trouser leg an unfortunate rattlesnake that had gotten a fright and taken a swipe at him as he’d raced past.

“Sorry about that.” Lucifer said, unsuccessfully stifling a giggle. “As you were.”

One gift of Father’s that did come in useful. Necessary, really, in his old job. The Gift of Tongues meant he could speak every language that had ever existed, to every damned human soul, every demon, to hellhounds and hellbeasts alike, but Earthside it meant he could speak to literally any creature with a tongue. The rattler pointedly ignored him as it gathered what was left of its dignity and hurriedly slithered away... well, just because he could talk to any creature didn’t necessarily mean they’d talk _back_. Especially cats, the furry, snobby little sociopaths.

 

He ran on. This was literally the most earthbound he’d ever been. Yet another pair of trousers ruined - dusty and torn and hem ripped to shreds by the stony ground, nothing to drink, no road tunes, nothing to drink, no company except that of his own thoughts, and worst of all, nothing to drink. He _really_ missed the Corvette. Driving from Vegas with Candy through this same desert had been pleasant enough with a bottle of whisky, some music blaring and the top down, but this was boring and it sucked. And even though temperature-wise it was the middle of the Californian winter and thus reasonably comfortable, it was still turning out to be a _lot_ harder than he’d expected. His chest burned and his legs felt like rubber, but he stubbornly pushed himself on.

 

He grimaced at the sky, a swathe of cirrus clouds foreshadowing a coming storm. _You want to force me to use them, don’t you? Well I bloody well won’t._ All things considered though it could’ve been worse. His Father could’ve dropped him in Siberia. Or even on the moon. Though this place felt almost as empty.

 

He ran across yet another dry desert wash, stumbling slightly when he misjudged a leap over a large pile of gravel on the far side, then pushed through a patch of waist-high saltbush. He’d nearly reached his first goal; a vaguely crescent-shaped rocky hill that rose from the featureless desert, with a series of much higher plateaux  behind it. He was only about ten miles from where he’d woken up, but weakening rapidly; it had only been about half an hour!

Even with his wings back his angelic strength seemed greatly reduced - either whatever had happened to him last night had taken a lot out of him or he was in far more desperate need of a drink than he realised. His tongue felt dry and swollen in his parched mouth, his throat burned and he felt lightheaded, almost like he was a little drunk, but not in a fun way. He couldn’t keep this up all day; could not even keep it up for one moment more. He had to stop.

 

As he reached the hill he slowed to a walk, then bent over and put his hands on his knees, fighting a sudden dizziness. Without warning his legs gave way and he landed on his knees in the dirt. He stayed there, head down, blinking hard to force away the black spots that danced across his vision. It took several minutes for his breathing to slow and the world to gradually stop spinning. When it had, he took a deep breath, sat back on his heels and looked around.

 

More of the same rocks and sand but with a couple of low rounded hills to break the featurelessness, and a few more Joshua trees, cactus and creosote bush adding to the sparse desert vegetation. Looking further north, beyond the closest hills there appeared to be a wide valley of sorts; the land had started to slope gradually upwards, and on both sides lay rocky mountains. They were fairly low on the eastern side to his right, but on the western side, which was unfortunately the direction he was headed, several steep-sided plateaux soared over a thousand feet above the valley floor.

They had seemed so distant before but now seemed almost close enough to touch in the cloudy sky. And almost as high. He got to his feet and imagined for a moment just how easy it would be to spread his wings, catch a thermal and simply soar over them, but he crushed the thought mercilessly. _Nope. Not happening._

He suddenly became aware he could sense life nearby; a lone coyote, napping in its den up on the rocky slope before him. Hmm… perhaps it would be prudent to ask for directions… it couldn’t hurt, could it? This would be tricky, though; the coyote would never come out if it thought he was human - coyotes were notoriously wary of them and rightfully so, considering how humans vilified and hunted them. _You’re a kindred spirit aren’t you?_ Lucifer thought sympathetically. _You have nothing to fear from me._ He decided a bit of harmless misdirection was the best option.

“Er… ‘hello the house’...?”

The coyote jolted awake when he heard the tentative whine and raced from his den to protect his territory, expecting to confront another coyote. He was instead shocked to discover a very tall, hairless creature that looked like a man but felt completely and utterly _wrong,_ and skidded to an abrupt stop, his hackles rising. To mask his fear the coyote started furiously barking and howling, his light grey, black-tipped tail becoming instantly bigger and bushier in a threat display.

 _Not off to the best start._ Lucifer squatted on his haunches in the dust to make himself smaller. “No, no, I wasn’t trying to trick you, not really, I’m not... come now, do I look like a hunter?”

The coyote continued barking angrily at him, his tail aggressively horizontal, teeth bared.

Lucifer put his hands up in a placating gesture. “Actually that was rhetorical! No, of course I’m not a hunter. Just look at me! No boom stick. And you’re right, I’m not human either. But it’s all right, I’m not going to hurt you. Promise.”

The coyote continued barking and growling and stayed at a safe distance, but craned his neck forward to tentatively sniff the air. Whatever he detected seemed to ease his agitation somewhat and he slunk a little closer, and Lucifer calmly held out his clenched fist to the animal.

The coyote stopped barking but kept up a warning growl, inching gradually nearer. Lucifer waited, stock still, until finally the coyote’s muzzle nudged his hand. He opened his fist then, and let the coyote nuzzle his palm, sniffing thoroughly. The animal’s tail began slowly swishing back and forth, and after a minute or so he seemed satisfied and sat down. His mouth was open as if in a smile, and his yellow-brown eyes regarded Lucifer with open curiosity.

The Devil smiled. _Fierce, beautiful, intelligent creature. You remind me of my hellhounds._

“Very pleased to make your acquaintance! I’ve never met an ‘American jackal’ before. You’ll pardon me if we forgo the arse sniffing part of the introductions? I’m in a bit of a hurry.”

The coyote huffed through his nose, like an irritated sneeze.

“Right. So sorry to barge in on you like this, but I don’t suppose you know if there’s anything to drink around here?”

The coyote stood up, turned and trotted away. Then he stopped and looked expectantly back at him.

“Oh. Right you are. Lead on Lassie.” The coyote growled. “Of course. Laddie. Sorry. Something lost in the translation there.”

Lucifer followed the coyote - whom he christened ‘Wiley’, of course - and soon found himself in a sandy area where a 20-foot patch of sprawling leafy vines snaked across the ground. The five-pointed leaves were grey-green and Lucifer could see striped, softball-sized melons of different colours nestled amongst them. They might have been appetising but for the most appalling stink that assailed his nostrils as they approached; rather than a sweet and fruity bouquet it was more a _parfum du sweaty jockstrap_. Wiley nosed amongst the leaves and retrieved a yellow fruit, which he quickly devoured whole, whimpering happily.

Lucifer wrinkled his nose. “You’re having a laugh.”

Wiley barked encouragingly at him, and Lucifer sighed. “Very well. When in Rome, I suppose…”

He picked a yellow one and sniffed it doubtfully, hoping it tasted better than it smelled. Lucifer looked at Wiley, who was watching him closely. “Well if you say so. It’s not like it can kill me, right?” He bit into it. It was… _ugh!_

“Bloody Hell!” he exclaimed, his eyes watering from the extremely bitter taste. The pulp was very juicy, though, so Lucifer forced it down, seeds and all, as fast as he could, shuddering.

“Eat these often, do you?” he commented wryly, grimacing. “Now I know why canines lick their testicles… it’s to take away the taste of your food.”

Wiley yipped in agreement.

“Still - not the most repugnant thing I’ve ever eaten. That has to be oysters on the half shell; like licking phlegm off a tortoise. Closest I’ve come to vomiting in my entire existence.”

_I like eating tortoise. But what’s phlegm?_

“Never mind. You eat dead things off the side of the highway, it’s safe to say your tastebuds are rather less discerning than mine.”

_What’s discerning?_

“Exactly.”

Lucifer managed to choke down a few more, careful to leave some ripe ones for his host, and surprisingly did feel better, despite the disgusting aftertaste. They walked companionably back to the coyote’s hill, chatting on the way.

 

“Bachelor, are you? Me too.”

_I’m looking for The One. Our den is ready and the females will be ready too, soon._

The One, eh? Well I _have_ found someone very special, but… it’s complicated.”

_You aren’t a good protector?_

“Very good, actually. She said I was the best partner she’d ever had.”

_You don’t have a den for her yet?_

“Well, I did help her find her apartment …and she knows she’s always more than welcome to crash at my place...”

_She doesn’t like your singing? I sing every night so The One can find me._

“She does, actually. I sang her favourite song to her and she took me back when she had every reason not to.”

_Then what’s the problem? You don’t want to mate with her?_

“Oh I want to mate with her alright. I’ve wanted to mate her brains out since the moment we first met.”

_I don’t understand what’s the problem._

Lucifer sighed heavily. “Yes, I know, and neither does she. I’m really not looking forward to explaining it to her.”

The coyote whined softly. Oddly, Lucifer felt a little better.

 

They’d arrived back at the den, and while Lucifer was keen to get moving again, the coyote had done him a favour, and he wanted to repay the debt. He sat down in the dirt next to him.

“If you could give anything to your future family, what would it be, do you think?”

The coyote growled. _A home where they would never be hunted._

“Oh. Right. That’s a good one.”

Lucifer eyed Wiley’s den, thinking quickly. He couldn’t let the coyote see him doing this; he’d freak out, run for the hills and never come back.

“Do me a favour and just look over there for a minute, would you?” he waved towards the desert, but Wiley merely cocked his head. Would a coyote fetch if he threw a stick? No, the Detective had explained how condescending that was. Besides, there weren’t any sticks because there were no bloody trees. And bugger throwing a cactus.

Suddenly inspiration hit. “Oh look over there! Could it be a lady coyote?”

Wiley snapped to attention, ears up, then dashed away around the hill. Shortly there came a loud, melodic, and somewhat hopeful howl. Lucifer grinned and hurriedly marked a sigil in the sandy entrance of the coyote’s den - it looked a little like the letter ‘J’ with a reverse ‘Z’ in the middle and a small circle in the hook of the ‘J’.

_I am hidden from those who would seek to harm me._

A simple protective sigil, with a couple of his own embellishments thrown in. Lucifer placed his hand in the centre and the lines flared with a pure white light, then he dragged his hand through to scatter them and the light faded. All done - all that was needed was for Wiley to cross the threshold, and any mate and resulting progeny would also come under the sigil’s protection for as long as this den was their home. And they wouldn’t even know. Brilliant!

Wiley loped back up the hill looking a bit disappointed. Lucifer smiled to himself when the animal padded past to flop down on his stomach in the doorway. Sigil activated, recipient none the wiser. Lucifer grinned down at him.

“No? Never mind, maybe tonight’s the night.” Lucifer grinned and got to his feet. “Well, I must be going. Thanks for everything, take care.” He had another thought. “And stay off the roads, won’t you.”

Wiley yawned. _You too. Many humans travel near here, walking around the cliffs and sleeping outside. I go there sometimes because they leave food behind, though they always try to chase me away._

Lucifer raised a dark eyebrow. This could be helpful. “Is that so? Which cliffs are these?”

_Across the sand, around the hill._

Hmmm, maybe not so helpful. “Would you mind showing me?”

Wiley got back to his feet, trotted east until they were clear of his hill and on the far side of the dry wash Lucifer had crossed, and looked to the north, farther up the wide valley Lucifer had noticed earlier.

_Up that way there’s a road, then the cliffs with dens. That’s where the humans are sometimes._

Lucifer looked up the valley, then across to the much nearer, higher, flat-topped cliffs that soared above them. The most direct route to the town he’d sensed was straight across, but if he could find a phone or catch a lift somewhere closer, he could save himself a lot of time-consuming slog and possibly get home sooner. He decided a slight detour was worth it, and nodded decisively.

He turned back to the coyote, who sat silently watching him.

“I’d best be off… thanks again. Best of luck with those bitches, eh?”

Wiley yipped at him and Lucifer set off again, this time at a much more modest pace, following the shallow sandy creek bed into the wide, dry valley.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The bit about phlegm and tortoises came straight from Lucifer himself! It was one of Tom Ellis’ answers during a funny food questionnaire that he did with Ben McKenzie from Gotham. It’s on YouTube and hilarious :)  
> \- Lucifer using a sigil is a little nod to Supernatural - love that show too. I’m hoping Lucifer will get at least as many seasons!  
> \- Also, there’s a nod to The Evil Dead in there, plus a line from awesome British sci-fi sitcom Red Dwarf! Anyone spot them?


	3. No Sweet Peach

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer is ambushed, and finds out who put him in this mess.

The sign he’d passed on the way in had read ‘Hole in the Wall Visitor Centre’, but as Lucifer walked up the dirt road he saw to his dismay the parking lot was empty and the place deserted. It was a clear winter’s day and was, at least for anyone fortunate enough to have shoes and water with them, an ideal day for a hike. The mostly barren sand and stones of the plain he’d crossed had given way to a fascinating landscape of multicoloured volcanic rock outcrops sculptured by weather and time. Very pretty. _It should have the tourists swarming, damn it to Hell_ , Lucifer griped.

A simple wooden building sat at the base of a long cliff, topped by jagged pinnacles and pocked with cavities. Two small, barren mesas loomed above. Lucifer noticed a large rock fall had damaged the cliff face, fairly recently by the look of it, and several car-sized and smaller chunks of rock lay scattered on the ground below.

As Lucifer neared the building he spotted the distinctive blue of a pay phone on the wall, but soon discovered there was no dial tone and the handset cable had wires sticking out of it. He swore. _Bloody vandals!_ he fumed and slammed the handset back down. _Enjoy your time in the Seventh Circle, you little shits._

He stepped back and something past the edge of the porch caught his eye; a faucet! He sprinted over and, falling to his knees in the dust, turned it on, gulping down the slow trickle as fast as he could, not spilling a drop. It tasted slightly metallic, but to Lucifer’s parched tongue it was even better than top shelf Scotch. Unfortunately he’d managed barely a dozen mouthfuls before the slow trickle stopped completely. 

_Bugger. I’ve drunk the bar dry._

He felt better, although far from slaking his thirst the drink seemed to have awakened it, and he decided to search the building for provisions. Lucifer walked back onto the covered porch and around to the main door. A sign listed the opening hours and Lucifer swore again. It was mid afternoon on a Friday, there should’ve been someone there. _Lazy sods are probably off up the pub already._

Then he saw another, hastily scrawled handwritten sign below it.

**Due to possible recent seismic activity this attraction closed until further notice.**

**Do not enter Banshee Canyon or walk close to cliffs or rock formations.**

**Unstable and highly dangerous.**

Well that explained why the place was deserted. _Just my luck_ , Lucifer thought gloomily. The screen and main doors were locked but clicked open at his touch, and he walked inside. The space was open and welcoming, with a large desk set below a wall hanging featuring pictures of Mojave landmarks, and racks and shelves of tourist brochures and souvenirs lining the walls. Lucifer headed straight for the office behind it and started rifling through the drawers and cabinets.

Within a few minutes he’d found another dead phone, half a dozen maps and a stash of Cool Ranch Protein Puffs, which he promptly ate. And then promptly regretted - his thirst raged after the salty snack. He consulted the maps and found that there was a camping ground nearby which should hopefully have more water, and he also memorised a route to the town he was aiming for; Baker on the I-15. He’d stopped in there a couple of times, driving between L.A. and Vegas, as there was an excellent little Mexican eatery there. They made the most _amazing_ asada torta… his stomach growled.

The quickest and easiest way to get there involved cutting through Banshee Canyon, which the ranger’s sign had warned against, but what did he have to fear from a few rocks? Then he’d take the road around the 5000-foot cliffs, climb a few ridges, and head downhill until he was clear of the mountains. After that he was back on flat plains and just had to follow the murmur of the town’s souls. Simple.

He left the maps and headed for the door, noticing in passing a little cabinet with a display of familiar-looking multifaceted crystals. Many were glossy and black, and bore a striking resemblance to the square-cut Infernal stone he wore on his right hand. He was about to ignore them when he spotted a small sign… he stopped outside the door, then stepped back in to check he’d read it right.

**_Dark mica, chrysocolla, schorl, garnet, hornblende. $2 each._ **

**_Sourced locally from Morning Star Mine._ **

His mouth twisted in a wry smile and he cast a withering glance heavenwards.

_Now you’re just being a dick._

After a quick side trip to the campground where he thankfully discovered enough water to quench his thirst, he headed down a marked dirt track to the gap in the high, brownish-grey cliffs of volcanic rock. The sign at the trailhead had another warning notice nailed to it, but Lucifer ignored it and walked into Banshee Canyon. The trail started to descend straight away, with several short drops over tumbled boulders, the pinkish-orange canyon walls pocked with cavities of all sizes like bubbles, or the holes in Swiss cheese.

 _Ah_ , Lucifer thought. _These must be the “cliffs with dens” that Wiley was talking about._

A strange wailing sound accompanied him as he walked along, and he realised it was the wind, blowing eerily across the holes in the rock. It was reasonably spooky, so naturally humans had given it a supernatural name. And it was a holy place, after all. _Because it has holes all through it…_ he snorted. _Thank you, thank you, here for one more night only..._

Lucifer hopped over a few boulders and shortly came to a drop-off down a ten-foot-high rock fall. There were large metal rings drilled into the face of it but he jumped straight down, landing easily at the bottom, then continued along the sloped floor of the narrow slot canyon. When he reached the ledge at the top of a second, longer drop above a natural amphitheatre, he stopped and looked around warily. A presence tickled the edges of his senses and caused a shiver of warning to run down his spine.

_Someone’s there._

Dust and stones suddenly fell in a shower and he looked up; a massive slab of rock the size of a bus was shearing away from the top of the canyon wall eighty feet above his head. He dived off the ledge a split second before the boulder hit, the detonation deafening as a bomb blast and sending razor sharp shrapnel flying in all directions. Lucifer winced as they pelted painfully into him, but they bounced off and he hit the floor of the canyon along with tonnes of rocky debris. Jagged shards and larger rocks landed on top of him and the massive boulder rolled slowly to a halt in a cloud of swirling dust.

“Bloody HELL!” As Lucifer picked himself up off the floor of the canyon, dislodging rocks and dust and coughing slightly, he realised whose presence it was that he’d detected. He chuckled to himself. It figured. She’d probably volunteered to run this little errand for Dad when she found out what he’d done with her fancy celestial letter opener.

He called out, “I know you’re there, Rae. Come come, don’t be shy! How long has it been? Six years? After millennia of you being in my face day in, day out?”

“You know I don’t like being called Rae, Lucifer.”

Azrael, the Angel of Death, sat on top of the massive boulder she had just thrown at him, wings sweeping out behind her, russet in colour like dried blood. Her voice was sweetly melodic, holding a trace of a subcontinental accent and her eyes were the colour of a stormy winter sky. They stood out in stark contrast to her dark brown skin and charcoal grey robes. Glossy jet black hair hung in waves over her right shoulder, divided by a close braid from the left side of her head where the hair was cropped close to her skull. On the curve of her exposed ear she wore a silver cuff forged in the shape of a snake. Like Lucifer, she was known by many names across dozens of cultures; to name but one, Hindus knew her as Kali, _The Dark One_.

Lucifer climbed atop the rubble strewn across the bottom of the canyon and heaved a sigh.

“Well well, aren’t you just a little Rae of fucking sunshine? I would have thought you were old enough to have stopped throwing things.”

“I was just checking to see if you were paying attention.”

Lucifer brushed himself off, even though he was so filthy by now another layer of grit really didn’t matter.

“You know, if you wanted to catch up you should have just come by Lux tonight - you wouldn’t be anywhere near our dress standard of course but I’m sure I have something lying around you could borrow.”

He tilted his head appraisingly at her. “Not sure about the new hairdo, by the way. It’s very... 4th century barbarian. You always were a bit old-fashioned.”

“I heard you rejected Father’s gift in the hopes that you would no longer have to serve Him,” Azrael said abruptly.

Lucifer spoke carefully; it seemed Azrael didn’t know Father had returned his wings. “Yes,  I had Maze cut them off when we arrived on Earth. I’ve been getting along just fine without them, thanks very much.”

She laughed scornfully. “Yes, I can see that. Scrabbling in the dirt, hungry and thirsty with no means of escape. When I saw you headed this way, a few boulders thrown around made the humans leave, and then I blocked the roads and destroyed their communications. No one will be coming by today. Or tomorrow. Why else do you think I left you out here?”

Lucifer frowned, taken aback by her admission. “Father didn’t order you to do this?”

Azrael scoffed. “I think our Father has more important things to do than trifle with you. He’s being generous, allowing you to spend time on Earth, but I doubt He’ll be so permissive for much longer.”

Lucifer raised and dropped his arms in a ‘WTF’ gesture. “If Father didn’t tell you to, then what the hell are you doing this for? Kicks? I do have a job, you know. And thanks to you I’m running about twelve hours late!” His eyebrows lowered dangerously. “ _And_ I missed a very important appointment.”

Azrael looked as though she were about to say something, then sniggered instead, as if at a private joke. Lucifer bristled. This wasn’t the least bit funny.

“So what, then, Azrael? The Angel of Death fallen on hard times, is that it? Taken to rolling people in car parks to get by?”

Azrael spoke with a saccharine sweetness but her eyes narrowed with a catlike, calculating look.

“Lucifer, I have neither the time nor the patience for any more of your bullshit. You know very well why I brought you here.”

Lucifer ignored her and continued complaining. “Those were my favourite Oxfords you know! And you even went to the trouble of taking my belt! Seriously, what the Hell for? And what did you do with my phone?”

Azrael waved her hand dismissively. “Meaningless trappings of humanity. Be grateful I let you keep your pants.” She glared at him.

“That little shit Uriel stole my sword and disappeared while I was running damage control in your kingdom, Lucifer. First you abandon your post, then Amenadiel goes absent without leave, so Father put me in charge.”

Lucifer smirked. “You’re putting out fires in Hell? Metaphorically speaking, of course.”

She ignored him. “Uriel told me he had business with you. Did he give you my blade? Are you plotting with him to attack Father?”

The smile fell from Lucifer’s face and he stared bleakly at his sister. _She doesn’t know._

“Azrael... Uriel is dead.”

Azrael went very still, her eyes narrowing at him. “No he’s not, you liar. I would have seen him.”

“You didn’t because he died by your blade, Sister.” Lucifer’s eyes misted in remembered pain. “...I killed him.”

Azrael’s mouth dropped open in shock. “What? You… consigned our little brother to oblivion? You… _monster_!” Her face twisted with grief. In just a few short moments, however, she had herself under control again and her gaze turned cold, hard and furious.

“Why did you do it? Did he refuse to join you in another rebellion?”

Lucifer frowned, deeply affronted. “No! Of course not! I don’t have any designs on the Silver City, I loathe the tedious place. Uriel came to me to bargain. Either I let him take our Mother or he would use his patterns to take the life of an innocent mortal. But when I saw he had your blade I knew he intended to use it on Mum, and then he vowed he was going to cause Chl- the innocent’s death anyway. He’d gone insane - he gave me no choice!”

Azrael suddenly stood and leapt from the rock, her wings beating once before she landed, furious, right in front of Lucifer. She was a full foot shorter than him, but she rounded on him with the ferocity of a striking cobra. “There was a choice! What matters an inconsequential human life? He was your brother!”

Lucifer glowered down at her. What was it with his siblings’ attitude toward mortals? Granted he didn’t care that much about humanity either but this was _Chloe_ they were talking about.

“And what of our Mother? Would you have let Uriel destroy her?”

Azrael didn’t answer. She glared up at him, then asked in a dangerously quiet voice, “Where is my blade?”

“Gone.”

“Gone _where_ , Lucifer. I want it back.”

“It doesn’t exist any more, Azrael. Not in this universe.”

“Lies! It cannot be destroyed by anyone but Father!”

“I never said I destroyed it.” Lucifer replied evenly. Had she known what her blade really was?

“Amenadiel and I used it to assemble the Flaming Sword…”

Azrael cut in. “That’s ridiculous, Father destroyed it eons ago…”

Lucifer cut her off in turn. “Yes, well, we thought that too, until the day your blade caught fire. But you know Father, He no doubt had a _plan_." Lucifer spat the final word.

"I'd rather know what **you** planned to do with it."

“Mother wanted us to return to Heaven to cut through the Gates and challenge Father but I used the sword to open a portal instead. I sent Mother into it, then removed the key and sent the sword in too. The portal sealed. Your blade is gone.”

“You cast my blade into the Void?!” Azrael yelled in outrage.

“It seemed the right thing to do! It was far too dangerous to allow to remain on Earth! If you’d only come looking for it a bit sooner you’d have been more than welcome to the blasted thing!”

“You gave the sword to our Mother - Father only knows what she’ll do with it!”

“No, are you deaf? I kept the key here, the sword can’t be reassembled. I never intended to be a part of Mum’s plan to overthrow Dad. You know I don’t lie.”

Azrael’s grey eyes hardened. “Yes, I suppose that is technically true, Brother. But I also know you won’t tell the whole truth unless it suits your purpose.” Lucifer kept his face carefully blank.

“There’s nothing more to tell, Rae. The sword is gone, and so’s Mum. War in Heaven duly averted. You’re welcome.”

Azrael glared at him contemptuously. “You haven’t changed at all. You selfish, self-centred, deceitful, vile betrayer…”

Lucifer objected. “Hey! I’m not vile!”

“Leave me to do your job in Hell while you prance about on Earth cavorting with humans -”

“Well I’d hardly call it cavorting. Consorting, definitely…”

“Released Mother from her punishment and helped her to escape…”

“Well the alternative was a hell of a lot worse, and I thought she’d appreciate a chance to start over. I certainly did…”

“You killed Uriel - ”

“I didn’t _want_ to! And I literally went to Hell for it- _oof_!”

Azrael’s right wing shot out suddenly, catching him completely off guard across the solar plexus and driving the air from his lungs. The force of the blow knocked him clean off his feet and he flew backwards into the canyon wall, the rock face cracking under the impact. In between winded gasps he swore, and after he got his breath back he stalked back over to her, livid.

“Azrael, just what the Hell are you playing at?! You think you can’t beat me in a fair fight, is that it? Is that why you feel this need to keep sucker punching me like a coward?”

Azrael snarled, “You don’t have my blade any more, Lucifer – what are you going to do now that you can’t use it on me? Without my blade, without your wings, without your demons, you’re nothing. Pathetic… impotent!”

With a cry she let fly with a right hook but Lucifer knocked it aside, then followed up with a straight right. Azrael’s head snapped back and she staggered backwards with a grunt. Lucifer squared up, rolling his shoulders and loosening his arms with a mad grin on his face.

“Temper, temper. I could have one hand tied behind my back and still beat you, _Raemond_ ,” Lucifer taunted. “You’re the one who always had a sword to hide behind, and you always needed to fight dirty to win.”

“Says the fiend who murdered his own brother,” spat Azrael, rubbing her jaw, her eyes like stormclouds. Lucifer shook his head.

“Are you dense as well as deaf? I _told_ you, Uriel forced my hand.” He scowled.

“But there’s no point explaining, is there? You’ve already decided where to lay the blame, and surprise, surprise, it’s all on me. The chip on your shoulder is showing.” He beckoned to her, his face stony. “Come on. Have at me then. That’s what you really want, isn’t it?”

She glowered at him, then attacked, moving so fast she was a blur. She rained blows on him but he blocked them, then trapped Azrael’s arm. Her wings beat furiously, hitting him over the head and shoulders but he used his free hand to shield himself then deliver a powerful blow to her midriff. She doubled over and Lucifer released her arm, then got caught in the eye when she leapt up and viciously threw an elbow into his face. They backed off, circling each other warily.

 

Lucifer panted, “You’re just annoyed I got out and you didn’t. I’m on Earth having a grand old time and you just had to come along and throw a wobbly. You can’t stand that humans love me, the Devil himself, and hate you, the Grim Reaper.” He brought his arms up to block another series of wing blows aimed at his head.

“And ‘Grim’ is right - if we had our own TV shows mine would be ‘I Love Luci’ and yours would be ‘Everybody Loathes Raemond’.” He swung at her but encountered only air, as she had disappeared, then reappeared behind him.

“You always did have an inflated opinion of yourself, Lucifer.” She kicked him viciously in the knee, and when it folded she spun on her left leg, lashing out with a roundhouse kick with her right. Her foot struck Lucifer a solid thump in his right side, and through the pain he wondered if she’d broken one of his ribs. He was tiring rapidly but obstinate anger lent him strength, and he caught her leg, whipped her around and with an almighty heave tossed her clear across the canyon. Wings trailing uselessly, she ploughed through a rock tower, the stone collapsing around her as she crashed through it.

Lucifer lazily called out, “You were saying, Raemond?”

Azrael picked herself up from the rubble, coated with dust everywhere except her eternally pristine wings. Lucifer couldn’t help himself; he snorted with laughter. She looked even more like a powdered doughnut than he did.

She screamed in fury and dove at him, swooping low along the ground and ploughing into him, lifting him up over her shoulder, wings pumping hard to send them both skywards. They rocketed high into the air above the canyon, the twisting labyrinths of rock opening up below them, both of them swearing and grunting as they wrestled. Lucifer punched Azrael several times in the back then grabbed hold of a wing and yanked, stalling her flight and causing them both to go into a rolling dive. Azrael cursed and twisted in midair, shaking Lucifer loose and tipping him off, and he toppled back towards the earth.

As his sister’s wings snapped open and she soared away, Lucifer felt his own wings reflexively trying to do the same but he stubbornly forced them back. Then he had a sudden flash of gut-wrenching deja vu… a long-suppressed memory of plummeting helplessly through a dark and ashen sky, smashing with incredible force into the lake of fire, unbearable flesh-searing torment... but before his wings had a chance to unfurl, the ground rushed up at him. He smashed through a rocky outcrop and landed in a blind canyon, tumbling dazed to the ground in an avalanche of boulders and smaller debris.

He lay in the rubble groaning and trying to blink his vision clear. Azrael’s shadow passed over him and he heard her jeer with vindictive relish, “Come _on_ , Lucifer! Try harder! Surely this can’t be the best you can do, a big, bad Devil like you?”

He sensed something lancing towards him and instinctively threw his arms up to protect his face. A moment later Azrael dropped like a stone from the sky, stomping on his right leg with brutal force, and Lucifer heard and felt a muffled _crack_ as both bones below his knee snapped like kindling. He bellowed in agony and tried to pull away, but Azrael stood there, unmoving, pinning his broken leg to the ground.

Azrael wiped her mouth, panting slightly, and looked dispassionately down at him. Then she took in their surroundings and said conversationally, “You know, this place reminds me of the Negev.”

“Fuck nostalgia.” Lucifer retorted, gritting his teeth against the pain, and kicked her off him with his free leg. He preferred to not think about the past. In fact, he preferred to pretend most of it had never happened at all.

She retreated out of range, folded her hands serenely and said, “I left you out here so you would suffer for a while, you deserve it after all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

Her mouth curled with a spiteful smile. “You won’t die, of course, but you may end up wishing you could. Have fun getting out of here, and if you don’t manage it with that leg, I might come back and see how you’re doing - in a few months. Goodbye, Brother.”

With a graceful sweep of her wings she soared out of the canyon into the darkening sky, before winking out of view.

Lucifer watched her go with a sardonic smile on his face, only his eyes betraying his pain. “Yeah, bye Sis. Great talk. If you ever need anything, hesitate to call.” Then his eyes narrowed and he muttered darkly under his breath.

“Bitch.”

Lucifer heaved himself to a sitting position, hissing at the sharp pain in his right side – damn Azrael for getting in that lucky kick. All things considered though, he’d gotten off lightly; she could have just killed him and sent him back to Hell. Not that he’d have stayed there, but still.

She would have gotten quite a rude shock when she realised he wasn’t quite as easy to beat up as she’d expected… thanks to his returned wings, he admitted grudgingly. So she decided to just cripple him and strand him here, in what was essentially a hundred-foot deep hole. He grinned smugly to himself. _But you missed something, Raemond…_

He opened his right hand and sitting on his palm was a small covert feather the colour of dried blood. He’d ripped it from Azrael’s wing during their mid air tussle and managed to hang on to it; Lucifer chuckled gleefully, wincing again at the pain in his ribs.

_I can’t wait to see her face when I thank her later._

He hitched up his trouser leg until he could see where the break was; the lower half of his leg hung unnaturally with the ends of the bones poking up under his skin. He placed the feather on his leg, and it lit up instantly, glowing brightly in the bluish afternoon shadows at the bottom of the canyon. In a few moments it had disappeared; his leg was straightened, the bones knitted together and the break completely healed. His other injuries still hurt, though, especially his ribs. _Only one miracle per divine object_ , he thought wryly. Then angrily added _I should have plucked the lot._

He lightly ran his hand over the sore part of his ribcage and thought it felt a tad swollen, but there weren’t any lumps or dents. He probably had a few bruised ribs, but there seemed to be nothing broken, thankfully. The same went for his face - he felt the promise of a black eye and the sting of a few other cuts and bruises here and there but that was generally par for the course whenever he had a ‘chat’ with a sibling.

Slowly Lucifer got to his feet and gazed wearily up at the enclosing walls of rock. He walked the perimeter of the canyon, stretching his aching muscles and cracking his knuckles, looking for the easiest possible route. He found a likely one which started at the base of a huge rockslide, so took a deep breath, rolled his neck a couple of times, and started up.

His bruised ribs aching with every step, he scrambled up the rocks at the base of the cliff then followed a large crevice up to a rocky ledge. It jutted out over the canyon, trailing upwards until it ended abruptly about a quarter of the way up. Then the rock face became vertical and he had to start proper climbing. The knurled and pitted cliff face made it a little easier, but Lucifer was having a much harder time of it than he should’ve been, even after fighting Azrael. Why was he so _bloody_ feeble?

He hit a smooth patch with no handholds, so Lucifer drew back his fist and punched a new one. His arms were leaden, his blows uncoordinated, but he remembered how Azrael had so callously hobbled and left him and found extra strength by picturing the rock as his sister’s face.

 _There’s already so many holes in this thing anyway, it’s not like anyone will notice_.

The wind picked up the higher he climbed, blowing across the cavities and making the rocks wail mournfully. He knew how they felt. Bloody Hell, he was tired.

 _Reach, grab, pull yourself up,_ he told himself. _Push with your legs. Reach, punch, pull, push. Keep going. The sooner you get there the sooner you can stop._ His arms burned and his legs felt drained of all strength.

His focus narrowed down to the rock wall inches from his face. The pinky-orange ashy matrix was peppered with millions of different-coloured fragments of rock, and even occasionally tiny petrified bones. A visitor centre poster had said all of this had blasted out of an ancient volcano millions of years ago… superheated, suffocating ash buried every living thing in the path of the blast then solidified, entombing them in rocky cells for eternity. Hell unleashed on Earth.

 _Can’t say it’s changed all that much_ , Lucifer grumbled. _Still hate ash._

It seemed to take an eternity, but at last rock gave way to open sky and he dragged himself up and over the overhanging lip of the canyon. Limbs shaking, he rolled onto his back to gaze up at the clouds.

_I’m absolutely knackered._

He didn’t know how long he lay there. He wanted nothing more than to simply close his eyes and sleep for a week. Well more accurately, he wanted to drink for a day, then eat for a day, _then_ sleep for a week. That sounded like a great plan. But he still had to get home.

Groaning, he climbed to his feet on wobbly legs. He looked around and found he was on a high plateau of rock, fractured by fissures and deep gorges and scattered with jagged outcrops _._

He took a moment to regain his bearings, listening intently until he located the gentle murmur of souls from Baker. The town still lay roughly to the north-east, but he was north of Banshee Canyon and he had to find another way off this rock before night fell; the temperature was dropping already and he didn’t want to stumble into any more canyons in the dark. In the direction of the town he noticed a massive bank of dark clouds building over the mountains, looming larger every minute; the light cirrus clouds had long since departed and a chill wind was blowing. The storm was on its way. 

He turned to face the west and saw shafts of bright sunlight streaking the grey clouds with brilliant ribbons of gold as the sun sank towards the horizon. He estimated he had maybe an hour of daylight left. He turned his back to the setting sun and started to pick his way across the rock formations.

 

\---------------------

 

It was dusk before he made it to the eastern edge of the cliffs. He sat at the top of an eighty-foot drop looking out over the sandy desert plain below edged by striated, accordion-like hills and high plateaux in the distance.  It was dotted with the now-familiar Joshua Trees, spiky cacti and bright green tufty grasses, and Lucifer enjoyed the feeling of being surrounded by life again after the ancient craggy sterility of Hole in the Wall. With the setting of the sun the desert had awakened, and the air rang with the cries of birds and animals. An owl emerged from its nearby cliffside roost and Lucifer expected it to start hooting but instead it let out a series of whistles that ended with a short trill. The call was almost whinny-ish; Lucifer thought it sounded a bit like a sad horse. An echoing response, almost identical, came from further along the cliff face, and the owls harmonised with each other for a while before flying on silent wings into the twilight.

The most distinctive calls were a series of short, high-pitched yips followed by high, wavering howls - they seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. Coyotes. The corner of Lucifer’s mouth turned up - he felt like a cowboy in a Western movie.

One howl in particular stood out from the others; a very melodic warble that sounded very familiar - it was Wiley! Lucifer grinned as he listened to his new friend’s solemn announcement:

_I am here and this is my area. Other males are invited to stay away but females are welcome to follow the sound of my voice. Please answer and let me know where you are so we don't have any unwanted conflicts._

Lucifer chuckled. So young, so earnest. _Go for it, my lad!_

As he listened in on Wiley’s booty call he found he rather envied Wiley the simplicity of his existence. He wanted something and he was free to go and get it.

Lucifer huffed a self-deprecating laugh. Was Satan jealous of a dog? Well, if Satan was honest, and he had to be, then yes, he was. It was ridiculous. He was ridiculous.

He recalled part of a conversation he’d had with the Detective once.

_Why covet something someone else has, why not just take it?_

_Because it’s never that easy_.

_It is for me._

He hadn’t understood at the time, had thought it only applied to humans. Maybe then it had. But now he understood. He wanted to be with Chloe, more than anything he’d wanted in his entire existence, yet he knew he couldn’t. He simply couldn’t do that to her, have a relationship with her, knowingly taking advantage because she had no choice. It would prove the one thing he had never wanted to believe about himself; that he was a monster.

He would be content with the gift of her friendship, if he was lucky enough to be able to keep it. If she still wanted anything to do with him after he opened her eyes to the truth about himself and his Father’s role in her creation.

He listened for her, but her thoughts were elsewhere, probably on some menial task of caring for her little demon. Well, demons, plural. Since it was Friday Chloe was no doubt preparing for a wild night of getting into her pyjamas to watch a movie with her spawn. Or working late, as she often did. She really needed him around to help her live a little, though he admitted he wouldn’t be much good to her at the moment.

He sighed heavily, suddenly aware again of just how bone tired he was. He felt ready to collapse. Going any further tonight was out of the question and besides, the storm had arrived… the wind had risen, cold enough that even he could feel it, and there was the occasional flash of sheet lightning and rumble of thunder across the desert landscape. He got to his feet, looked over the edge, and stepped off, dropping eighty feet straight down.

He landed rather ungracefully at the foot of the cliff, falling to his knees before he could catch himself, then got up and staggered along the cliff face looking for somewhere with a bit of shelter. He soon came upon a small gorge with a rough recessed ledge at about shoulder height that was big enough for him. The bolthole held no warmth from the day, being in the shadow of the cliffs, but at least it was protected from the wind which had started to howl through the canyons in earnest.

As he crawled in and curled up in his ‘den’ he was appalled to realise just how early he was going to bed. And on a Friday night for goodness’ sake! Even the Detective didn’t go to bed this early.

 _There’s a first time for everything_ , he mumbled, and fell into an exhausted sleep.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> -Totally borrowed the nickname ‘Rae’ from PixelbyPixel’s awesome story ‘The Thing with Feathers’. Though I’ve used it a bit differently - hope you don’t mind Pixy! :)
> 
> \- I used Lucifer’s first mention of Azrael - “no sweet peach” as my template for her character. When she does show up in the show I hope she isn’t quite as nasty as my version… poor Lucifer :(
> 
> \- Azrael I first pictured as Natalie Dormer (Margaery Tyrell in Game of Thrones and Tom Ellis’ co-star in The Fades) because of her ability to portray extremes of both sweet/disarming and vindictive/calculating, plus I saw her in a Hozier music video with a kickass half-head shave. (I tried to post a photo here but unfortunately technology bested me.) Then I started to visualise her more like Kali, the Hindu goddess of death. Combine the two=my version of the Angel of Death. But also because I hope Lucifer’s angelic siblings turn out to be as racially diverse as the U.N! I hope we see many more continents and accents represented besides Europe and North America. You know what would be hilarious? An Australian Michael - who I think I’ve actually seen in fanfic somewhere! His nickname would of course be ‘Mick’... and he would wear a crocodile leather vest and croc tooth-adorned hat and his catchphrase would be “That’s not a celestial blade, THIS is a celestial blade…” tee hee :)
> 
> -Yes, there actually is a Morning Star Mine in the Mojave Desert, and the black volcanic rocks and crystals Lucifer sees have been sourced there. That is just plain weird. But also awesome.
> 
> -Wiley’s serenade to the ladies was taken verbatim from DesertUSA.com, a fascinating website with loads of indispensable info on the Mojave, including coyotes. Their howl translation was simply too adorable not to use.


	4. The Devil's Playground

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer struggles to find his way out of the desert, and is helped by a Good Samaritan.

Lucifer curled stubbornly into a ball and burrowed deeper into bed. Even barely at the threshold of wakefulness he could already tell it was going to be a shitty day and he wanted to delay starting it for as long as possible; he was waking up alone, a headache was pounding behind his eyeballs, and his right arm had pins and needles from lying on it. Another irritation; his nose tickled annoyingly, as if he had his face buried in someone’s hair. He scrubbed his face with his hands, relieving the tiny itch, then settled back down under the covers. A few moments later he stirred again.

 

_ Hang on _ , he pondered blearily,  _ if I’m lying on my arm how did I just use my hand to rub my face?  _ Frowning in confusion, he cracked his eyelids open.

He blinked. And blinked again. A blanket of faintly glowing white feathers lay across and beneath him, cocooning him in softness and warmth. He gaped, disbelieving, for several seconds, and then the events of the previous day came back in a rush. Waking up in the desert, the fight with Azrael, his wings… his wings were back, and the bloody things had wrapped themselves around him while he was asleep.

 

“I said NO, damn it!” He swore and instinctively rolled away. His wings folded tightly to his back and disappeared, and at the same time he tumbled out of his stone cubbyhole and landed with a thud on the ground.

 

“Ow. Sodding bastard!” he gritted through clenched teeth. His whole body ached, especially his banged up ribs, and falling out of bed hadn’t helped. As he lay on the ground, now fully awake and pissed off and deprived of the insulation his nice warm feathers had provided, he realised just how cold it was; literally  _ freezing _ . He shivered, and his breath steamed in great clouds in the frosty air. He got up and made his way out of the dimly lit, sheltered little canyon to gaze out onto the desert landscape. 

 

The storm had moved on to the east during the night and the sun had just begun to rise behind it, the puffy clouds and curtains of precipitation backlit in crimson, rose and gold by the first light of day. During the night it had transformed the drab browns and yellows of the desert of the day before into a world of softly glowing pink; every surface was tinted shades of rose by a flaming sunrise reflecting off six inches of freshly fallen snow.

 

_ I suppose Father does have  _ some _ artistic talent, _ Lucifer admitted grudgingly.  _ But even Hitler fancied himself a painter. _

 

He wondered if Chloe was up yet. The moment his thoughts turned toward his partner he heard her voice as clearly as if she was standing beside him.

_ Lucifer, where are you? Are you seeing this too, wherever you are? _

It seemed the Detective was awake. Had she woken up thinking of him too? It cheered him immensely to realise she was sharing this sunrise with him, and therefore looking his way. He listened for her again but she was already gone, no doubt busy with her offspring and getting started on her day. He turned his attention to the whispering souls in Baker and set off towards them, walking as briskly as he could to try and warm up.

 

He scraped up handfuls of snow to suck on as he walked along . He was extremely thirsty and it was such a frustratingly slow way of getting a drink he soon decided to just eat it instead, and promptly gave himself a brain freeze. Then he got even colder and was still so thirsty and the pounding in his head ratcheted up another notch and this was going to take  _ for ever _ .

_ Damned snow, hurry up and melt! Bloody surrounded by water and I can’t get any! Satan, Lord of Hellfire having trouble melting a little ice? It’s absurd! _

 

He flung the snowball away in a sudden fit of temper, and felt a burst of familiar white-hot energy blaze through him. His eyes flared white and the snowball exploded in a flash of boiling water and vapour. He was so taken aback he just stared at the tendrils of steam curling up from the circle of melted snow on the ground and absently wiped a drop of water from his nose.

 

Well, that was a turn-up for the books, wasn’t it? It seemed along with his wings Dad had returned his Lightbringer powers. So, if he wanted to, he could defrost this entire desert in an instant and have plenty of water - enough for a flash flood. Not to mention probably set a few bushes to burning as well. Lucifer swallowed past the dryness in his throat and reached for another handful of snow, forcing himself to be patient. He’d rather do it the hard way than concede an inch to his Father.

He trekked across the snowy landscape, threading his way between two enormous craters and past a high rocky outcrop surrounded by winter-bare trees. He encountered a road and followed it for a while, finding himself again on an open flood plain dotted with low bushes, but struck off across country when it turned in the wrong direction. The terrain got increasingly bumpy and he started heading uphill.

 

Hours passed. The day got warmer and the snow disappeared, and by the time he’d started heading down the far side of the mountain range, following a dry creek bed, Lucifer was feeling very lightheaded and dizzy. His gait was stilted and awkward, and he stumbled more and more frequently. It felt like his body wasn’t completely under his control any more. He didn’t like the feeling _at_ _all_.

 

His mind wandered, but most often returned to thoughts of the Detective. And it seemed she was thinking about him a lot, too, like she was beside him, talking to him as he put one foot in front of the other, over and over, endlessly. He answered her, even though his speech was slow and slurred and she couldn’t hear him anyway.

 

_ Dammit, Lucifer, where are you? _

 

“ ‘m coming, Detective… like I promised…”

 

_ You said you trusted me.  _

 

“... yes … more’n anyone…” A golden eagle circled smugly overhead, wings outstretched, cruising easily on abundant desert thermals. 

 

_ You said you were done hiding. So what do you call this? _

 

“ ‘m sorry... let you down again… I can explain...”

 

_ I can’t believe you’re doing this again… _

 

“… don’t wanna hurt you… please... don’t hate me...” His foot turned on a rock and he stumbled.

 

_ Where are you… _

 

“ ’m coming…”

 

The foothills gradually fell behind him and he entered a vast, flat ocean of sand, rocks and knee-high scrubby vegetation. He blundered across it, trying to muster the coordination needed to navigate around the bushes but more often than not stumbling into them and tripping over. He encountered a bitumen road and a train track, but neither were going the right way. He sat down on the side of the road for a rest and to see if anyone came by but after a time - he had no idea how long - no one did, so he decided to keep going.

 

He stood up, took two steps and suddenly found himself lying full length in the dirt.   _ Bugger _ , he thought fuzzily, his vision reduced to whirling black spots _. _ He slowly got to his knees, then when his vision cleared got to one knee, then unsteadily got to his feet. He staggered on.

 

“ ‘m coming, Chloe.”

 

\-----------------

 

He lost track of how long he walked. And how many times he’d fallen over. His head felt like a hot brick wrapped in cotton wool and his legs cramped constantly. He limped on,  eyes down on the gravelly sand, following the quiet murmur that hovered on the edge of his senses and trying to focus on staying upright. He felt like he’d been drugged again, but with every last bit of pleasure sucked out of it.

 

“Chloe?”

 

He hadn’t heard from her for a while. He missed her. He needed someone to talk to, someone to make this relentless, parching trek bearable. He was just wondering where she’d gone when he bumped into someone.

 

“ ’m sorry,” he mumbled indistinctly, shuffling back a step, then did a slow double take. It was a telephone pole. He frowned at it for several moments, then stumbled on. Within a few steps he found himself suddenly clear of the scrub, standing on the gravel verge of a bitumen road, broken yellow lines down the middle stretching off in both directions. He teetered, listening, found the soft susurrus of souls, and veered right, stumbling almost down the middle of the road.

_ Follow the yellow brick road, Lucifer,  _ he giggled deliriously. _ It’s paved with good intentions. _

 

He’d barely managed to walk twenty feet before he found himself on the ground again. He tried to rise but his muscles locked up with agonising cramps, making it impossible. His limbs twitched and jerked uncontrollably and his vision narrowed down to a long shadowy tunnel. He doggedly dragged himself a few more feet, the ground seeming to roll and pitch beneath him.

“Ff... you, Dad...” he croaked. He was still muttering curses as his head hit the tarmac.

 

\--------------------------

 

Kelbaker Road north of Kelso, California

 

Nick had spent longer at the Kelso Depot Visitor Centre than he’d planned, but with everyone wanting details on what had happened up at Hole in the Wall he’d had to do a little gossip control. Closing a major attraction in the middle of peak tourist season was pretty dramatic, and rumours were flying thick and fast already. Granted the whole thing  _ was _ really weird - huge chunks of cliff face cleaving off around the visitor centre but nowhere else? He hadn’t noticed any tremors recently, though seismic activity seemed to be the general consensus. 

Nick supposed it could have been the recent freezing temperatures; ice expanding in rocky fissures and causing chunks to break off, but so many large sections, all at once? His ex-cop brain suggested such large-scale localised damage could only be caused by heavy machinery or explosives, but there didn’t seem to be any evidence of those either. It was quite the mystery. The ‘real’ Park Rangers were heading up with a geologist after they cleared the access road and they’d do a proper recon and figure out what happened. Then they could hopefully reopen the site and he could get back to work.

Nick lightly punched the steering wheel in irritation. He wanted so badly to go up with them; he hated having to stay behind to drive a desk and miss out when interesting shit like this happened. All because he didn’t have that goddamned piece of paper.  _ Yet _ , he amended.

 

His attention was suddenly drawn to a commotion in the middle of the road up ahead. It was a flock of buzzards, clustered around some roadki-  _ holy shit! _ It wasn’t a bighorn or deer as he’d first assumed; Nick could see a man’s bare torso and a head of dark hair, lying facedown in the middle of the road. Nick pulled the truck to a screeching halt and leapt out of the car, yelling and madly flapping his arms. The vultures scattered, retreating to a safe distance, but kept their beady eyes on Nick as he fell to his knees to check the man for signs of life.  He noted the barely perceptible rise and fall of his back as he breathed, and when he felt his neck for a pulse it was there; fast and thready. He was in a really bad way, but he was alive.

 

Nick raced to his truck and flung open the back doors; he had to work fast. First thing’s first; get him off the road. He grabbed the Ferno stretcher and rolled the man onto it, noting as he strapped him in his various injuries, nasty sunburn, and unusual height… the stretcher was over six feet long and his bare feet hung off the end. Once off the road and in the shade of the truck, Nick pulled fluid bags and equipment from the truck’s cabin and rolled the man onto his left side.

“Come on back,” he encouraged his patient, and set to work.

 

\---------------------------

 

An hour later Nick was speeding on to Baker with his patient crammed in the back, shaking his head in disbelief. To his amazement, within half an hour he’d already gotten over a litre and a half of dioralyte into the guy, and his blood pressure and heart rate had vastly improved. He had seized a couple of times, but that had passed, and while he’d be unconscious for a while yet he’d started deliriously mumbling to himself.

 

Nick was just driving past the dark mounds of the  cinder cones and  lava fields when s uddenly a cultured British voice spoke right by his ear. 

“Hello there.”

“Shiiiiit!” Nick flinched in alarm and nearly drove the truck off the road. There was a curse as the man flew sideways and smacked his head on the passenger headrest.

“Bloody hell!”

“Christ, you scared me!”

“Well, you’ll have to take it up with him then,” the man said testily.

Nick goggled at the man, now climbing over the centre console and folding his long body into the passenger seat. _How the actual f is he_ _awake,_ Nick thought. _How the Hell is he lucid already, never mind conscious; he was just about dead an hour ago!_ A quiet voice at the back of his mind added _maybe he wasn’t as bad as you thought?_

 

The man seemed not to notice Nick’s confusion and was peering out the window. “Where are we?”

 

Nick found his voice again. “Uh - about 15 miles outside Baker. How are you feeling?”

 

“Oh, much better - thanks to you, I gather?” the man answered casually with an easy grin. He was quite charming considering his half-undressed, peeling skin, filthy and bruised state. It might have had something to do with the accent.

 

“What happened? I found you passed out on the road back there, no car, no shoes, no nothing. Someone did this to you.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“Yes.” Nick waited but he didn’t elaborate. He was about to prompt him when the man spoke again.

 

“And who can I say has had the honour of reviving me?”

 

Nick held out his hand. “Nick Gonzalez. National Park Service.”

 

The guy took it and shook it warmly. Very warmly, in fact. “Lucifer Morningstar. Devil.”

 

Nick glanced at him, mouth quirking in amusement before returning his gaze to the road.

“Lucifer, huh? Fine by me. The sheriff is going to want to talk to you though, about who did this. You’re extremely lucky to be alive - whoever did it could be up for attempted murder.”

 

‘Lucifer’ snorted. “There’s nothing ‘lucky’ about it. And I don’t want to talk to the sheriff, the law can’t do anything. It’s… a family affair.”

 

Nick’s eyebrows went up. From his time as a cop in L.A. he knew all about the organised crime there, Vegas too. The Italians, Hispanics, Blacks, Russians, Chinese, Armenians... And now the Brits were getting in as well? It was worse than the goddamn United Nations. But with less tanks.

 

He couldn’t imagine this Lucifer guy in a syndicate though. He seemed so…  _ posh _ . Although, when he’d been delirious he’d been mumbling about his dad… was his father the head of a crime family or something? Had he ordered a hit on his own son?

 

“Did your… father do this to you?”

 

Lucifer’s head whipped around and his almost-black eyes bored into Nick’s. 

 

“Now why would you suggest something like that?”

 

Nick shrugged. “While you were c oming around I heard you telling your dad to go fuck himself. Several times.”

 

Lucifer snort laughed. “No, not His doing. For once.” Nick waited but no further explanation was forthcoming. Nick’s cop instincts buzzed. Yep, he’d put money on ‘Lucifer’ being involved in organised crime judging by how tight-lipped he was being. And he didn’t seem all that fazed by his current situation either. Definitely suspect.

 

“Well the sheriff’s going to talk to you anyway, but we’ll get you fixed up first. As soon as I’ve got cell reception I’ll call the emergency medical service in Baker to set up treatment and from there you’ll go by ambulance to the hospital in Barstow. I’ll feel much better once you have an i.v. in and you’ll at least need to stay in overnight...”

 

“That won’t work for me.”

 

Nick frowned at him. “Are you refusing to be treated? I have to say, with the condition you were in when I found you I would strongly advise...”

 

Lucifer shook his head impatiently. “No, I’m just telling you it won’t work. Now; who do I have to blow to get a drink around here?”

 

Nick decided to save the argument for later. He passed his passenger a bottle of water and deadpanned, “Free of charge.”

 

Lucifer took it unenthusiastically. “Lovely. But do you happen to have a bottle of Scotch to put in it?”

 

“This is the Mojave, not the Swiss Alps, and I’m not a St. Bernard. Alcohol’s the very last thing you need.”

 

“I beg to differ.” Lucifer muttered, unscrewing the cap and taking several deep gulps.

 

Nick’s hand shot out and pushed the bottle down and away from Lucifer’s mouth, much to his surprise.

 

“Hey - take it easy with that. Small sips. Too much at once and you’ll puke it all back up.”

 

Lucifer grabbed the bottle back. “I’ve never vomited in my life and I’m not about to start now. Especially not because of a bit of plain old water.” He raised the bottle again and defiantly drank it all, his eyes never leaving Nick’s. Nick sighed.  _ Ornery bastard. _

 

“If you barf all over my truck you’re cleaning it up.”

 

“Deal. But I won’t.” Lucifer burped loudly, then screwed the lid back on and casually pitched the empty container over his shoulder into the back of the truck. Nick eyed the stash of sick bags he had in his door, but after several minutes without any power chucking he started to relax.  _ Either we’re talking delayed reaction or he’s got a cast iron stomach. _

 

“You know you’re really lucky I decided to go back to Baker via Kelso to let them know Hole in the Wall was closed, otherwise I would’ve missed you.”

 

Lucifer smiled to himself and thought  _ fuck you, Azrael.  _

 

He fiddled with the knobs for the sound system but Nick noticed and said  ruefully, “Sorry. The radio’s busted. And the tape deck ate my Best of Queen album last summer.”

 

“What’s a tape deck?”

 

“Yeah I know right? Ancient.”

 

Rather than clearing things up Nick’s answer merely confused him further, but Lucifer couldn’t bring himself to give a shit. 

 

As he reached for another bottle of water something  occurred to him and he looked over at Nick with a baffled expression on his face. "Hang on; I was unconscious - how on Earth did you get water into me? An i.v. wouldn’t have worked."

 

“Actually, I used an emergency technique for remote area rehydration that dates from before the First World War.”

 

“Oh yes, and what would that be?”

 

"Proctoclysis,” Nick replied nonchalantly, hoping Lucifer wouldn’t press any further. Sometimes people - men in particular - weren’t too happy upon hearing the particulars of how their lives had been saved. He’d even heard of a couple of instances of rangers getting punched for it.

 

The man lifted one dark eyebrow, looking at him sideways with a playful grin on his face. Nick couldn’t believe it; was he…  _ flirting _ ? The guy had nearly just died!

 

"Ooh, that sounds interesting! Is it what I think it is?”

 

To Nick’s surprise, he heard himself say, "That depends. Do you think it’s me putting electrolyte water up your ass through a piece of hose?"

 

The sudden guffaw that exploded from his passenger startled Nick; not many people took the news well, especially after the trauma of a life-threatening experience, but this one seemed to find it absolutely hilarious. Thank God for that, because he had definitely  _ not _ intended to tell him.

 

Laughing helplessly and holding his sore ribs, the man wheezed,  "And I didn’t even get to buy you a drink first! Even I’m not usually that easy!” He broke into fresh peals of laughter, and Nick couldn’t help laughing along with him. It was an uninhibited, infectious laugh, and it was a massive relief that his patient seemed to have a sense of humour about the situation.

 

And he wasn’t done. "They pay hundreds of dollars for that in L.A. and you’ve gone and given me a freebie! I should bring all my friends over, we’ll have a rehydration party. BYO crazy straw."

 

Nick decided it was safe to play too. “Well, I certainly rehydrated  _ your _ remote area.”

 

That set both of them off again. “Hahahaaa! Well played! Can I get a coffee next? I’ve been  _ dying _ for a cuppa.”

 

“Do you take sugar?”

 

“Often. But I  _ give _ just as well, sweetie.” He snickered dirtily.

 

“How about a martini?”

 

“Extra dry. Shaken, definitely  _ not _ stirred.”

 

“With olives?”

 

“No, they go right through me.”

 

“Maybe I should start up my own rehydration  _ bar _ .”

 

“Bartender! Can I get another?”

 

“Sure, just stand on your head for me, would ya?”

 

Eventually their laughter subsided into quiet chuckles and the occasional snort, and Nick’s dark-haired passenger said between giggles, "You’re very good."

 

Nick shook his head, still somewhat incredulous that he’d actually said any of it. 

“It’s the stuff I’ve always wanted to say but couldn’t. I didn’t want to get punched or sued.”

 

“Perks of the job, eh?”

 

Nick smiled. “It’s fine, it doesn’t happen very often. And every soul taken back from the wilderness makes it worthwhile.” He turned to look more closely at Lucifer. “Speaking of which, you’re taking nearly dying extremely well - I’d say you were in shock but you don’t have any other symptoms. Any chest pain?”

 

“Nope.”

 

“Dizziness?”

 

“Not any more. I’m good. Just tired. And bloody starving.”

 

“Okay.  So this might be a good time to tell you you owe me a new Camelbak hydration system.”

 

“Certainly. I will rectify that debt as soon as I am able. You shall have all the Camelbaks you desire. Though a more appropriate name might be ‘Camelbums’, if this is how you tend to use them.”

 

Nick laughed, and Lucifer leaned in closer.

 

“And what else do you desire?” 

 

Nick answered without thinking; for some reason he felt he could tell this man anything.  “That’s easy. To get commissioned. I’ve wanted to be a park ranger since I was a little kid.”

Lucifer made a face. “You  _ want _ to wear khaki pants and a funny hat? What on earth for?” Then he added, “Although - I do like a man in uniform.”

 

“I liked Smokey Bear.” Nick mentally facepalmed.  _ Did you really just tell him that? You total dork. _

 

Lucifer didn’t laugh at him though, he just looked mystified. “Smokey Bear? On the Dukes of Hazzard? I thought he was a drug dealer or a pimp.”

 

“No that was  _ Huggy _ Bear. And he was a bartender. Smokey Bear is an actual… well a cartoon bear, he’s like... an unofficial mascot for park rangers.”

 

“Fascinating,” deadpanned Lucifer. “What does he smoke?”

 

“He doesn’t!”

 

“Then why is his name ‘Smokey’?”

 

“Because he puts out wildfires?” Nick shrugged. “Anyway, I used to be a cop, but recently I realised it wasn’t what I really wanted to do. After graduation I didn’t have the money for college, so I joined the police academy instead.”

 

“And now…?

 

“I staff the visitor centre up at Hole in the Wall while saving for college. I just need a degree, I was thinking tourism management, and hopefully after I graduate I can keep working in the Mojave. We need more rangers, what with more and more tourists every year, not to mention all the meth labs and body dumps and other weird shit that goes on out here.”

 

Lucifer looked sharply at him, then replied with a smile, “Good for you! I’m sure you’ll do that silly-looking hat proud.”

 

Lucifer finished the second bottle of water, while Nick eyed the sickbags. Lucifer tossed the empty in the back with the other one and licked his lips. 

“Well you said the drinks were free, but I know how to repay you for the ride. Shall I get started?” And then, to Nick’s utter astonishment, he reached over to Nick’s crotch and started expertly unbuckling his belt one-handed. Nick frantically slapped Lucifer’s hand away, and the truck again swerved wildly all over the road.

 

“Hey! What the HELL do you think you’re doing?”

 

Lucifer drew back, seemingly puzzled by his reaction. “I’ve been informed you hitch a ride in America, you give the driver head. It’s expected. It’s the first rule in The Book. One of the few rules I approve of, actually. Along with ‘ladies first’ and ‘thou shalt not stand on and block escalators’. I want to throat punch people who do that.”

 

“What? What are you talking about? What book?”

 

“ _ The Unwritten Book of the Road _ , duh.”

 

A distant memory floated to the surface; senior year, getting blazed, laughing his ass off at a movie night.

 

“Are you... quoting the  _ Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back _ movie to me right now?”

 

“That’s where I learned about it, yes. I’ve found popular culture to be extremely enlightening...”

 

“It’s  _ a movie _ . That bit was a joke!”

 

Lucifer’s face fell. “Really? Ugh, I knew it was too good to be true.” Then he brightened again.”Well, regardless, the offer still stands…”

 

“NO!”

 

Lucifer fell back in his seat, rather put out. “All right all right,  _ fine _ ! I must say this little revelation has really ruined hitchhiking for me. What else are we going to do to pass the time?”

 

Nick relaxed a little. A little irrational behaviour could be put down to the trauma he’d just experienced, but this Lucifer guy was just a bit... eccentric.

 

“We’re only a few minutes out of Baker now - driving through the Devil’s Playground.”

 

“The what?”

 

“ _ The Devil’s Playground _ . Look out the window.” Lucifer complied and saw the road they drove was a narrow grey ribbon through a flat sandy plain. There were distant low hills in every direction but the truck was the tallest thing for miles. It was even more desolate than the part of the desert he’d first woken up in.

 

_ ‘The Devil’s Playground’, eh? _ Lucifer thought sourly.  _ What the Hell kind of fun do they think I could possibly get up to out here? _ Then he smirked wickedly.  _ Although... thanks to Nick and his hose the other ‘Devil’s Playground’ has already gotten a ton of action today. _

 

They shortly drove over the freeway and then into Baker, the tiny town looming like a metropolis after the barren emptiness of the desert. Driving up the main street they passed the ‘World’s Tallest Thermometer’ and it was a relief for Lucifer to finally see something familiar; LA didn’t seem quite so far away now. 

 

Then they approached the main intersection and Lucifer spotted something up ahead that made his heart leap in his chest. He bounced in his seat and yelled, “Pull over! Pull over!”

 

Nick got a fright and accidentally yanked the steering wheel yet again. Car horns sounded angrily all around them and he spluttered, “What! What now? Shit!”

 

“There.” Lucifer pointed at a nondescript shopfront at the other side of the intersection.

 

“ _ Los Dos Toritos _ ?” Nick parked in front of a nearby liquor store, relieved he hadn’t just caused a smash. 

 

“I’m bloody  _ starving _ ! I’d sell my soul for an asada torta. Or at least rent it out for a while. Get me one, no,  _ two _ , and I’ll make it worth your while...”

 

“You can’t eat fast food! You need to go to a hospital and get properly rehydrated! An i.v., a kidney function test, then ease back into eating fruit and vegies with a high water content…”

 

Lucifer waved his hand, letting out a dismissive  _ choh _ then leaned in close to Nick. “Come  _ on _ ,” he wheedled, “I’m feeling much better. Tomatoes have lots of water in them.” He paused thoughtfully. “I need to pee, if that helps.”

 

As Lucifer looked into his eyes, Nick found himself thinking,  _ why not? I’m hungry too and it wouldn’t be fair if I had lunch and didn’t let him eat anything. _

 

But... he couldn’t, he had a duty of care to think about. “But your body won’t be able to handle it. At the very least you’ll puke, you could go into shock...”

 

Lucifer smiled and leaned closer. “No I won’t. Promise.  I have a veritably  _ supernatural _ constitution. I kept the water down, didn’t I?”

 

Nick nodded, and felt his resolve slipping.

 

\------------------------

 

Nick got Mexican takeout for both of them and Lucifer had half-finished his before they’d even driven the four blocks to Nick’s home. He had a blissful expression on his face and when Nick handed him a sick bag Lucifer handed it straight back. Nick shook his head. It shouldn’t be possible, yet here it was. He shrugged. Well, it actually wouldn’t be the strangest thing he’d seen in the desert - people always found ways to surprise him.

 

They pulled up in the empty dirt lot adjacent to Nick’s house, climbed down from the truck and went inside. It was a modest trailer off a dirt road, nothing special but Nick didn’t need anything fancy. He lived in his crappy old truck more than he did his house, and slept under the stars more often than not.

 

He tried one more time to convince his passenger to go to the doctor, but Lucifer seemed more annoyed than anything, in such a hurry to get back to LA he still didn’t seem to comprehend or care that he’d just had a near death experience.

 

“Come on, man. It was below freezing last night! You’ll be suffering from exposure, you probably still have an electrolyte imbalance, possible tissue damage… you’re a very lucky guy! Don’t push it.”

 

“I’m feeling much better now, thank you. Those tortas were… well I’d say Heavenly but that would be insulting the food.”

 

“Well if you don’t want to go to hospital I can’t force you. I’ve called the sheriff though, she’s coming over to take your statement, okay? You got someone you can call?” Nick jerked his thumb at the phone on the wall and Lucifer nodded.

 

Nick opened a padlocked cupboard and fished out an armful of first aid supplies. “I’ll just quickly clean up and restock the truck.”

 

Lucifer murmured his thanks as Nick headed back outside and the screen door banged shut behind him.

Lucifer picked up the receiver and dialed Chloe’s number. He couldn’t wait to talk to her, to explain...

_ “You have called Detective Chloe Decker of the LAPD. I’m not available at the moment, but…” _

Lucifer swore under his breath and hung up.  _ Bloody voicemail again!  _ He tried a couple more times but she didn’t answer, and the last thing he wanted to do was leave another message.

 

Who next? He couldn’t call Linda, obviously. She was laid up in hospital and besides, she had done more than enough for him lately. He owed her more than he could possibly repay.

 

He dialled again.

 

“Smith.”

 

“Maze, it’s …”

 

“Lucifer! Where are you? Are you okay?” He was surprised at the concern in her voice, but just as quickly her tone changed and she started yelling at him. 

“Where the fuck have you been? Chloe’s been worried and hassling me and you made her pissed at  _ me _ because she thinks I know where you went! You selfish asshole, running off again after the shit you pulled with Candy! And if you think calling me from a different phone will make me talk to you think again!”

 

And before Lucifer could even get a word in edgewise, she hung up. Not all that surprising, though the news that Chloe had been worried about him both cheered and unsettled him in equal measure.

It was pointless calling Amenadiel - he still hadn’t gotten a new car after Maze had blown his up. And he wouldn’t know how to hotwire the Corvette, he was far too boring.

Lucifer refused to call Ella. He didn’t doubt the sweet and nasty little nerd would do him this favour but he wasn’t willing to chance it that she’d ask him to accompany her to Mass again. There was no bloody way he’d set foot in his Father’s house again after this. 

 

He tried calling Chloe again; again it went to voicemail.  _ Hellfire and damnation! _

Extremely reluctantly, he dialed the last number.

 

“Espinoza.”

 

“Ah, hello, Daniel, it’s…”

 

“LUCIFER?! You total asshole, what the Hell…”

 

Lucifer winced and held the receiver away from his ear while the Douche vented at him at top volume.

He tried to get a word in but could only manage the odd ‘wait’ and ‘Daniel’ and ‘but’. Finally the Douche stopped to take a breath and Lucifer interjected quickly, “It’s rather a long story but I’m in Baker and need a lift back to L.A....”

 

Dan cut in again, even more furious. “You’ve been on a bender all this time or gone back to your ex in Vegas and now you want me to come get you? Fuck you!”

 

Lucifer frowned. Why was the Douche overreacting? He’d only been gone two nights! 

“No I haven’t been in Vegas, and we’re being a tad dramatic aren’t we Daniel? I haven’t been gone that long!”

 

The other end of the line went suddenly silent. When Dan spoke again, his tone was icy.

“Of course you have, you asshole. Have you been so completely out of it you haven’t realised you’ve been gone almost a week?”

A week? Oh… bloody, bloody hell. Dan continued to berate him but Lucifer could barely hear his voice over the roaring in his ears. His legs felt suddenly wobbly again and he gripped the heavy wooden countertop so hard it creaked under his fingers. This was bad; as far as Chloe knew he’d run out on her again, and even worse, intentionally broken his promise to her. If only he’d known he’d kept her waiting for so long he would have used his cursed wings and flown straight back to her yesterday, Father be damned.

Azrael had literally sucker-punched him into next week. No wonder he’d been so frustratingly weak despite the return of his wings. And no wonder she’d been so smug when he’d said he was hours late for work; try  _ days _ . Oh after he got his strength back he was going to kick her arse so hard she’d find out what Italian leather tasted like.

 

And even worse he couldn’t use his wings now, he was in such a state he’d end up smacking into the side of a highrise or crash landing in the middle of Hollywood Boulevard. He’d have to stay at ground level for at least another day. But he could still walk - part of the way, at least. He was extremely reluctant to be in Dan’s debt, but all things considered, he would much rather be in the Douche’s debt than his Father’s. 

He suddenly became aware of said Douche’s voice saying his name, repeatedly... in an increasingly pissed off tone of voice at being ignored.

“Daniel, I’m in no condition to get myself home now. I… I need a favour.”

 

Daniel swore again. He really did have quite a surprising vocabulary for an ignorant troglodyte.

“Call some other patsy, call someone who owes you, burn a favour! God knows you have plenty owing!”

 

Lucifer was silent for a moment. He didn’t want word to get around about what had happened to him; sure, it was his celestial sister’s doing but he couldn’t have the seedy underbelly of L.A. knowing  _ anybody _ got one over on Lucifer Morningstar. It’d be bad for business. 

He finally answered, “I don’t want those people to see me like this.”

 

That brought Dan up short. Inside his head Lucifer heard him say _see you like what?_  and his tone when he spoke was surprisingly kind. “What’s happened? Are you okay?”

 

“Could be worse,” Lucifer hedged. “I’ll recover, but it’ll take time and I need to get home as quickly as possible. I need to speak with Chloe and it can’t wait.”

 

He heard Dan sigh deeply, muttering something under his breath.

 

“Okay, Lucifer. I’m on my way. Wait - why didn’t you just call her?”

 

Lucifer huffed a frustrated laugh and barely restrained himself from punching a hole through Nick’s kitchen wall. “I’ve been trying, Daniel, only my calls keep going to her bloody voicemail!” He paused. “She wouldn’t be screening my calls, would she?”

 

“Well, she’s mighty pissed at you, but more worried than anything, and I don’t think she’s avoiding you… oh wait up, I forgot; she’s been on a stakeout since yesterday. She'd have turned her phone off.”

 

Lucifer was only slightly relieved at that, though chagrined at the knowledge that he’d yet again given the Detective very good cause to be angry with him. A bloody  _ week _ . She’d only just forgiven him for the last time he’d let her down. He was going to explain everything, but she was already mad at him - although, perhaps that would help; if she was mad at him perhaps she’d be less scared? Isn’t that how humans worked? Neither situation was ideal, but it couldn’t be helped.

“Right, Daniel. I’m leaving here and heading towards L.A. on the I-15. Look for me. Oh, and bring water.”

Daniel started to say something, no doubt that he should wait for him, but Lucifer hung up. He felt much better after sustenance, and he’d feel better still if he kept going. He refused to sit around here for the next three hours waiting, even if it would hasten his recovery. Maybe he’d encounter someone headed to L.A, but if no one was willing to give a dusty, blistered, beat up, half naked stranger a lift he’d bloody well walk.

 

He turned for the front door but Nick was blocking it. “If you think I’m going to let you just walk out of here you’ve got another think coming. You’re lucky to be alive, man!” Lucifer just looked at him. Nick tried a different tack. 

 

“Tell you what, I’ll give you a ride to Barstow if you’ll just agree to go into the ER and get checked out. Your friend can meet you there.”

 

“No. No hospitals, Nicholas.”

 

Nick rubbed his face in exasperation. Was he phobic or something? What was the big deal! Or… another thought occurred to Nick. Maybe there was a BOLO out on him. He’d have to let the sheriff handle it.

 

“Alright, alright. Your choice. I don’t have any pants that’ll fit you but I’ll get you a shirt and you can take a shower and clean up. Then I can dress those burns with some aloe vera. They look nasty.” He opened the hallway cupboard and passed a towel to Lucifer, not hearing him mutter under his breath,  _ you have no idea. _

 

“Here. Bathroom’s down the hall on the right.”

 

Lucifer smiled. “You’re a good man, Nicholas. Thank you for all of your help.” 

 

Gonzalez rolled his eyes, turned and walked into the nearby bedroom. As he rooted through the closet he said loudly, “Yeah, well. I’d feel a helluva lot better about things if you’d just let me take you to get checked out properly. There’s still the risk of kidney damage, cerebral edema, further seizures -  I feel like a shitty medic letting you walk around like you only stubbed your toe ...” He stepped back, a white shirt in his hands, and walked back out into the hallway.

 

“Here, this should fit you…” he trailed off. Lucifer wasn’t there, and the still-folded towel had been left on the kitchen bench. Nick walked to the bathroom but he wasn’t there either. He went out the front door and checked the crossroad in every direction but Lucifer was nowhere to be seen. Nick swore under his breath. That stubborn asshole!

 

He sighed, pulled out his cellphone and punched in the sheriff’s number.

 

\-----------------------------

 

A fortnight later, when the day ‘the Devil’ rode shotgun had become just another crazy desert story, Nick pulled up to his home to find someone waiting for him. A fixer from Los Angeles with a delivery; a brand new 4WD customised with solar panels and sat phone and capsule tent and mp3 player sound system loaded with Queen albums ( _ and _ David Bowie  _ and _ The Rolling Stones  _ and _ The Clash… it was like he had his very own 80s rock DJ in there) plus GPS and every other technological convenience he’d heard of, plus a few he hadn’t. 

 

A large bottle of Scotch tied with a bow sat in the passenger seat, and piled in the back was a small mountain of hydration packs. Placed on top was an envelope containing enrolment advice for the University of Southern California plus an elegantly handwritten note:

 

**Nicholas,**

 

**Your application has been accepted and tuition sorted. Congratulations on being one step closer to membership of the Funny Hat Club.**

 

**P.S. Now YOU’ve got Camelbaks up the wazoo.**

 

**Regards, Lucifer Morningstar.**  
  


 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Nicholas Gonzalez is the name of the original Dan actor in the pilot before the role was recast with Kevin Alejandro.  
> \- Yup, proctoclysis is real; also called a 'Murphy's Drip'... so much for the luck of the Irish. :D Bear Grylls did it to a bunch of celebs last year. Not fun but durn effective!  
> \- The ‘Devil’s Playground’ is a thing, I was delighted to learn! It starts outside the town of Baker and the southern border is the Providence Mountains. As in ‘Divine Providence’... I see there’s quite a lot of religious name calling in Californian deserts, probably because whenever people ventured into it they thought it was Hell on Earth and hoped name dropping deities would help them get out alive...  
> \- Lucifer chose USC because Linda lectures there so he figures it must be the best. :)  
> \- Can anyone pick the ‘Good Omens’ reference? In honour of the absolutely fantastic news that that book, co-written by Neil Gaiman and Sir Terry Pratchett (and my favourite book of all time), is currently being made into a TV series!!!!! Woohooooo!


	5. Back to L.A.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lucifer makes it back to LA and finally has the talk with Chloe. It doesn't go quite as he planned.

Dan blazed along the lonely desert highway at well over the speed limit, fingers drumming impatiently on the steering wheel. He wondered what Lucifer had gotten himself into this time. He also wondered, for the twentieth time, why the Hell he was letting himself get dragged into it. Dan just hoped it was nothing shady; he was already skating on thin ice at the department and another black mark against his name would see him fired or worse.

Dan sighed resignedly. He hadn’t had a choice, really. Lucifer was Chloe’s partner, and he’d proven himself to be loyal to her, if a bit flighty. There were things Lucifer had done for her that had also indirectly been for him, and Dan owed him far more than this.

He was just wondering again what on Earth could’ve landed Lucifer ‘Teflon’ Morningstar in trouble when he spotted a hitchhiker up ahead, shambling along the side of the highway. It was odd, though; he wasn’t carrying a backpack, and by the looks of it didn’t even have a shirt on. Dan was just slowing down to check on him when he registered the figure’s towering height and dark hair - surely it wasn’t…? He pulled up in front of the plodding figure, looked closer and gasped.

It was Lucifer, all right. But he was filthy, had no shoes, shirt or jacket, and his skin was raw and peeling. The hems of his suit pants were ragged and dusty, torn halfway to his knees. His face was battered and bruised, including a black eye, he had a split lip and a laceration above his hairline, and there was a large purplish area on his right side, most likely a cracked rib. He was almost unrecognisable, so different was he from the usually impeccably dressed and groomed nightclub owner he presented.

“Jesus, Lucifer!”

Lucifer frowned at Dan, then turned to look down the road behind him. “No, just me.”

“What… what the Hell happened to you?”

“Quite possibly. I don’t know the details. I woke up yesterday somewhere out there,” he waved vaguely to the southeast, into the desert, “and have spent the time since slogging my way back.”

“Someone beat you up and dumped you in the desert?”

“Yes.” He paused. “And vice versa.”

“Who?”

Lucifer retorted tetchily, “Look, could we please save the interrogation for later, Detective Douche? I would very much rather go home, have a bath and wash this Dadforsaken desert off me than stand here in the road playing ‘twenty questions’.”

Dan mentally facepalmed. _You ARE a douche, Espinoza. Take the detective’s hat off for five lousy seconds._

“Sorry, man. Come on, get in.” He climbed back into his car and reached over to open the passenger side door.

Lucifer collapsed into the passenger seat in a cloud of dust and slammed the door, and Dan turned the Douchemobile back towards Los Angeles. Lucifer noted the soft rock playing on the radio, pulled a face, and reached for the CD player.

“What’ve you got in here then? I’ve really missed decent tunes on this highway from Hell.”

Dan looked over, then said urgently, “Wait up-”

Too late.

 _Let it go, let it_ _go, can’t hold it back any more…_

Lucifer groaned theatrically and thumped the skip button. “Will this bloody torment never cease?!”

Dan laughed. “It was Trixie’s choice this morning. She’s still not sick of that movie.”

Lucifer continued jabbing at the sound system. “I guarantee it, that song is playing on a loop somewhere in Hell as we speak.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised...” It’d been alright the first fifty times - after that it started grating a bit - but Trixie still loved it. In Daddy’s car they took turns playing DJ, and she had already added some of his songs to her playlist. Actually, between her 90s pop mom, her alt rock dad, her death metal roommate and Walt Disney musicals Trixie’s music tastes were tending towards the eclectic already.

Dan reached over, slapped Lucifer’s hand away and put on the _Bodybags 3_ soundtrack. Lucifer relaxed with a sigh, his head dropping back onto the headrest and his eyelids drifting shut.

Eyes still closed, he murmured, “So if Beatrice went to school today it’s not Saturday, then. What day is it?”

Dan glanced at him. “Chloe told me you disappeared on Thursday night. Today’s Wednesday. You seriously don’t remember?”

Lucifer raised his head, steepled his hands and touched his long fingers to his lips. “No.”

“What the hell happened? Did you get a concussion or something? Memory loss could explain the missing time.”

Lucifer reflexively touched the back of his head. _Looks like he was knocked out_ , Dan guessed. _So that’s a yes to a possible concussion._ But Lucifer shook his head.

“Not likely,” he answered.

 _Very likely_ , amended Dan. “Either way, you need to see a doctor. I’ll take you straight to St. Claire’s…”

“No. No hospital. I’ll be fine, Daniel. All I need is a bit of time to recharge, a proper drink or three and I’ll be good as new.”

“I really think…”

“ _No_.”

And that was apparently that.

Dan had been hoping to get more details out of Lucifer about what had happened to him but in the time it took them to get a few miles down the road he had downed two bottles of water, cranked the heater up muttering about not wanting to get cold, and fallen asleep. And slept like a dead man the entire way back to Los Angeles. They stopped in Barstow for gas and for Dan to use the bathroom but Lucifer didn’t stir.

He didn’t even wake up when a fire truck passed them just outside of San Dimas, siren blaring. Dan had panicked that Lucifer was actually unconscious and was about to shake him and/or floor it to the hospital after all, but Lucifer chose that moment to mutter in his sleep. It sounded like he was talking, but Dan couldn’t understand a word.

So he kept himself entertained by listening to his _Bodybags_ soundtracks and daydreaming about shaving one of Lucifer’s eyebrows off. Or maybe just the middle of one, so he’d match Maze.

They pulled up in the alleyway at the rear of Lux just after 4pm. Dan felt guilty about just dropping him off there and not taking him to hospital, but Lucifer had been adamant, and he could be just as stubborn as Chloe. Dan had learned how to choose his battles.

“Lucifer.” Surprisingly, he woke up straight away.

“We’re here. Have a nice nap?”

Lucifer looked like he was about to deny it, but then shrugged. “Yes, actually. I’m feeling much better.”

Dan thought he was looking better as well; he was sure Lucifer had had more bruises before. Hard to tell under all that dirt.

Lucifer wasn’t getting out of the car though, just looking out the window like he was trying to say something difficult.

“Thank you Daniel. I… owe you.” His lip curled as though the words held a foul taste and his gaze didn’t leave the window.

Dan knew all about Lucifer’s thing for deals. He knew for a fact that the fugly ass clown painting he’d bought to get the ingredients for Chloe’s cure was actually hanging in his apartment, just as he’d promised their informant… he wouldn’t even break a deal he was forced into with a lowlife scumbag, even if the scumbag would never know about it.

Lucifer was the biggest asshat he’d ever met but he did seem to be an extremely honourable one, and Dan knew without a doubt that whatever he asked of Lucifer he’d pay up. Never call him Douche again, quit the precinct, leave L.A... any outrageous demand, he’d do it, whatever it cost him.

He sighed. He supposed he’d better do the honourable thing too.

“You don’t owe me, man.”

Lucifer scoffed. “I do indeed. You have the Devil over a barrel. And not in a fun way.”

Dan shook his head, ignoring the Devil reference. And the... other thing.

“No, you don’t. You saved Chloe’s life, Lucifer. And before that, you helped her and Trixie escape from Malcolm. I have no idea how you did it, but my daughter and her mom are both still alive thanks to you. You don’t owe me shit.”

Lucifer eyed him. The Douche could literally ask anything of him and he was letting him off the hook? They weren’t even friends. Frenemies maybe. So why would he do that? Perhaps he was too dense to realise the uniquely advantageous position he was in.

Daniel continued. “But Lucifer, I’ll tell you something for nothing - don’t hurt Chloe again. I’m sure when you explain… _this_ ,” he waved a hand at Lucifer’s dishevelled appearance, “she’ll understand, but she’ll only take so much crap, you know? I know that from personal experience.”

Lucifer nodded, now thoroughly confused. Now the Douche was giving him Chloe tips? Perhaps he was the one who needed to go to the hospital.

“I’ll give her the heads up and tell her to call you when she comes into the station tonight, okay?”

Lucifer nodded again, for once at a bit of a loss as to what to say, and got out of the car. As he walked away Dan noticed the scars on Lucifer’s back were gone. He’d seen them in the bath house during the Boris sting but hadn’t commented on them at the time (you just don’t comment on another dude’s _anything_ in the bath house, unless you’re Lucifer ‘Inappropriate’ Morningstar talking about ‘gun shows’ because you have zero brain filter) and he certainly wasn’t going to say anything now, but damn that was some good plastic surgery.

They’d been huge, weird shaped scars, rough like the skin was abraded, or even burned, and way too symmetrical and precise to be accidental. Which meant somebody did that to him on purpose. Maybe someone had taken a sander to his back? Or God forbid, a blowtorch? Dan shuddered. He was glad Lucifer had gotten rid of them. They must’ve been a pretty awful reminder of something.

 

\---------

True to his word, Dan talked to Chloe after the stakeout ended that night. She was both relieved that Lucifer had turned up and horrified to learn her partner had been in so much trouble, and she’d been of no help at all. When he’d disappeared she’d gone straight to ‘Lucifer’s run off again’ mode and mostly been pissed at him the entire time.

As soon as she could escape the Lieutenant she headed straight over to Lucifer’s penthouse. And so what if she had her lights on and was on the wrong side of the speed limit.

As soon as the elevator doors dinged open she jumped out, spotted his tall form out on the balcony, then sprinted out and hugged him, much to his surprise and delight.

“Detective! I thought you’d be angry…”

Chloe cut him off with an impatient sound. “Lucifer, are you okay? Dan said he picked you up outside of Baker? My God, what happened?” She squeezed him tightly; it was a good thing his ribs had healed a bit.

Lucifer felt a great ballooning rush of happiness. His detective - she was really here, with him, at last. His hands rose of their own volition to hold her, and it took everything he had not to sweep her into his arms and kiss her like he was dying of thirst all over again. His eyes drank her in and his heart pounded, but he forced his voice to stay light and casual, so it wouldn’t betray him. That was not why she was here.

“Well actually it wasn’t His doing, for once. I got conked on the head just after I called you, then next thing I know I’m waking up half naked out in the desert. I had to walk most of the way out. I got to Baker this morning and tried to call you, but ended up having to get the Dou- Daniel to come get me.”

“Yeah, Dan said you looked really beat up. You look alright to me - you went to the hospital?” He looked his usual polished self, except for a bruised eye and a small cut on his lip.

“No, it wasn’t necessary. I’m feeling much better. Almost 100%. You can’t keep a good Devil down.”

Chloe rolled her eyes, but smiled indulgently. That was Lucifer alright; he never let the Devil schtick drop. She was about to ask him who had abducted him but there was something about his smile that gave her pause. It seemed a little forced, a little uncertain around the edges, and he looked nervous as… well, Hell. Then he cleared his throat and held her hands in his. She couldn’t help but notice they were trembling slightly.

“So - about my message. I meant what I said, I want to tell you everything. I’m trying to go forwards. Like you said. But we can’t go forwards if you don’t know the truth about me.”

Chloe nodded encouragingly. “Alright.”

“But first… just wondering… are you currently armed?”

Chloe blinked. “What?”

“Are you weaponised? Do you have on your person anything that might propel bullets at high velocity? Are you _packing_?”

She rolled her eyes at him, mildly exasperated by his melodrama, but answered, “Well if you must know, my sidearm is in the car but I still have my ankle holster.”

Well, that was a slight relief, although the small calibre bullets of her backup certainly wouldn’t tickle if she did decide to shoot him.

 _Right. It’s now or never,_ Lucifer thought. He guided her over to sit down on the sofa, took a deep breath, and squared his shoulders.

“Detective, I’ve always said I’ve never lied to you, which you seem to accept, but for the fact that you think I’m lying to you about who I am. But…” he paused, then plunged ahead. “But I’m not. I really _am_ the Devil. I quit Hell six years ago and retired here to Los Angeles.”

Chloe’s face fell. She seemed about to object but Lucifer cut her off with a wave of his hand.

“Yes, yes, yes, I know what you’re going to say, Doubting Thomas. So I’m prepared to prove it this time. Now, don’t be alarmed, this will only be temporary. And try to remember, I’ll still be _me_.”

He moved away from her, sitting in the chair on the other side of the coffee table. He hesitated a moment before letting just his eyes flame - he’d learned from his mistake with Linda. Maybe easing her into this would be a better way to go.

Chloe continued staring at him, her expression unchanged. There was definitely no look of terror, which was good, but there also seemed to be a distinct air of impatience.

“Well?” she said expectantly.

“Well what?” Shit, was she ready for Stage Two already?

“What is it I’m supposed to be looking at?”

Lucifer blinked. _What, she doesn’t see? That isn’t possible!_

He abruptly got up and dashed to the bathroom mirror. He let his eyes flame - but nothing happened. He dropped his entire glamour - nothing. No glowing red eyes or seared, skinless flesh, just a fair complexion and dark brown eyes wide with astonishment staring back at him. His hands shook as he gripped the sink, head bowed as full realisation hit. He tried to make sense of it.

_It wasn’t just my wings; Dad’s made me whole again! Is that what those strange blisters were about - the burns from my Fall healing? What does this mean? His idea of a reward?_

His head whirled with the implications. _Has He accepted my resignation? Am I even the Devil any more? But… then what the Hell did he restore my wings for?_

He heard Chloe yell impatiently from the living room. “So what’s this thing you want to show me? Come on, stop dicking around, Lucifer. I thought you were going to be serious for once.”

He shook his head and suppressed his confusion _. Well those are all excellent questions for some other time, aren’t they - right now you need some other way of proving yourself to the Detective before she decides you’re metaphoring her again._

His head snapped up and he grinned. _Actually, this should work out much better. I won’t have to scare her! Brilliant!_

Lucifer walked back out of the bathroom. “Well it seems we’ve hit a bit of a snag. I was going to show you my true face but it seems to have, ah, gotten better,” he finished lamely as she frowned back at him with a mystified look on her face. Then he brightened.

“Never mind, though, I have a much better idea!” He walked back over to her, shrugging out of his jacket and throwing it on the couch next to hers. Chloe looked at it, then looked at him, her lips pursing. He undid his cufflinks and placed them on the coffee table, then started on his buttons, grinning happily.

She narrowed her eyes at him disapprovingly. _Not this again._

“Just what are you planning on showing me, Lucifer? You know I’ve seen it all before. Multiple times, in fact.”

Lucifer draped his shirt over the back of the couch, chuckling. “No, Detective, no full monties today. I just wanted to show you this.” And he turned away from her to display his unscarred back.

Disappointingly, Chloe was supportive but failed to grasp its significance. “You got your scars removed? Wow, your plastic surgeon did really, really good work. Jeez, that’s _unbelievable_. Are you going to tell me what happened… before?”

When Lucifer turned back to her with a baffled look on his face Chloe added, “Did you get it done in Vegas? Why didn’t you show me earlier?”

Lucifer shook his head, vexed, and sat down next to her. “No, the scars are gone because Father put my wings back.”

Chloe’s expression instantly closed off.  _He’s chickened out,_ she thought. _He’s not going to tell me after all. Surprise, surprise._

She plastered an exaggerated smile on her face and said with false enthusiasm, “Awesome! So show me.”

 _Damn_ , Lucifer thought. _Apparently the miraculous and spontaneous healing of scars isn’t going to cut it_.

“I don’t think that’s such a good idea. Going by past experience there’s a good chance if you saw them you’d go bonkers…”

Chloe laughed, but there was no joy in the sound. It made Lucifer’s stomach lurch uncomfortably. This wasn’t going as well as he’d thought it would.

“Bummer, right? So you can’t show me your ‘true’ face, or these wings of yours, and even though you’re apparently the _real, actual_ Devil you’re not _really, actually_ immortal so I can’t SHOOT you either unfortunately, so you got nothing.” Chloe’s expression was a toss up between beseeching and exasperated. “Come on Lucifer, don’t do this, just tell me...”

Lucifer looked at her anxiously. _No, you need to know, I have to convince you. I wanted to avoid scaring you, but…_

“Well I haven’t exactly 'got nothing'. I’d rather not do something so drastic, but… needs must, I suppose.”

 

With that Lucifer got to his feet, calmly walked out the sliding doors to the balcony railing, and vaulted straight over.

  
  
  
  


 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- The taking turns with playlists thing is something we do at our house :)


	6. The Chloe Decker Church of Tenacious Rationalism

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The reckoning. Buckle up...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- Thank you SO MUCH everyone for reading, commenting, kudosing... you've been so supportive and amazing! I really appreciate it!  
> \- Thanks especially to PokerFace84 for her help with plotty and story type stuff! She's an amazing writer in any language :)  
> \- Lots of hurting in this chapter I'm afraid- I'm sorry! but there's some comfort too - Dr. Linda, where would we be without you?

“Lucifer! _NO!!_ ”

Chloe screamed and raced to the railing, dreading seeing his broken body on the pavement sixteen storeys below.

_Omigod omigod… what have you done...!?_

But he wasn’t there. She desperately scanned the road and rooftops below, leaned out to see if he’d somehow managed to catch one of the ledges further down; searched everywhere he could have landed, but there was nothing. He was gone.

_Where’s he gone?!_

A sudden gust of wind blew her hair forward into her face and she frantically pushed it back, still looking for him and fumbling in her back pocket for her phone.

“Detective.”

Chloe whirled at the soft voice behind her, her jaw dropping open in shock. Lucifer stood there, calmly watching her.

_He’s alive._

Her eyes lit up with the most enormous relief and her bottom lip quivered slightly, and Lucifer’s heart skipped a beat. However a scant fraction of a second later he saw her eyes darken with rage and her mouth compress into a tight line.

“You son of a bitch!”

Lucifer blinked. “Well, yes, but what’s that got to do with anyth- “

In three quick strides Chloe had closed the distance between them and promptly taken a swing at him. He was so surprised she popped him one right in the nose before he could react.

_“OW!”_

_Well,_ he thought in astonishment, _I must say this is one reaction I wasn’t expecting._

She rounded on him again, and he held up his hands in an attempt to surrender.

“What are you doing, Detective! Stop! Please!”

In reply she stepped closer to him and brought her knee up to nail him in the groin, but he dodged back. She let fly with a beautiful right hook but he ducked. He took a moment to appreciate a side of his partner that he’d seen only once before; she was absolutely incandescent with rage, as when thrashing the woman who’d betrayed her friends and pimped them out to a sex club.

He wondered if the Douche had ever pissed her off this much. The confounding thing was, Lucifer had _no idea_ what he’d done to incur her wrath. One thing was certain; infuriated Chloe was truly a sight to behold! He couldn’t tell her that right at this particular moment though, because he was vulnerable around her and he valued his balls.

She shoved him hard in the chest. “Why did you do that?! You scared the ever-loving shit out of me Lucifer! You’re pulling your mentalist bullshit on me too now?!” Tears spilled down her cheeks and she angrily dashed them away with the back of her hand before lunging at him again.

He gaped at her in disbelief, barely avoiding a well-placed kick. “Seriously?”

That’s why she was so mad? She seemed to believe he had somehow hypnotised her! With his ‘mojo’ as she called it. He would have laughed but was quite certain if he did so she would pull out her little gun and shoot him. As he fended off her determined attack he marvelled at the amount of credit she gave him and the extent of her stubborn refusal to accept the evidence of her own eyes.

He beat a hasty retreat behind the couch, raising his hands in a placating gesture. It had worked on a furious wild coyote so he hoped it would work on a furious wild detective as well.

“Detective! Will you please stop your Tasmanian Devil impression for a moment and listen to me?!” Chloe stopped and glared at him, panting from the exertion of trying to kick his ass, her jaw clenched.

“I’m not trying to trick you, I would _never_ ! My abilities don’t work on you anyway, you _know_ that! I’ve told you that I would never lie to you…”

Chloe smiled mirthlessly. “Yeah, I remember. I believed you for the longest time, too. Even despite all the Devil crap.” She stared up at him, her expression turning cold. “First Dan and now you. I’m such an idiot.”

A pained expression crossed Lucifer’s face. “But I _haven’t_ lied to you!”

Chloe shook her head furiously and yelled, “You haven’t _stopped_ lying to me! You keep telling me you’re the Devil, that your mojo doesn’t work on me, that what we had was real, even that - I don’t know, that massive PRANK that Charlotte Richards is your stepmom… _it was all bullshit!_ ”

Lucifer gulped. "Ah, no it... wasn't... but it _is_ rather complicated..."

Chloe ground out, "Is Charlotte Richards your stepmom or not? Simple yes or no."

Reluctantly, he answered, "No. But if you'd allow me to explain..."

"Not interested."

She took a step back, still breathing hard but her fury spent, glaring at him with such an expression of hurt betrayal in her blue-green eyes that Lucifer’s stomach tied up in sick knots.

_I finally let my guard down again and trusted you enough to let you in, and you’re using it to mess with me. You bastard, WHY?_

Lucifer was momentarily lost for words. The Detective was a dyed-in-the-wool agnostic, but this denial of hers was a faith, of sorts; call it the Chloe Decker Church of Tenacious Rationalism. This relentless, infuriating insistence there _had_ to be a reasonable explanation for everything, no matter how incredible. No wonder she had never believed him; it wasn’t that she had ignored the evidence of all of the strange things that she’d seen happen around him, it was that she so firmly discounted any supernatural explanations she rationalised all of it away.

He’d demonstrated his powers in front of her many times; compelled the truth from suspects, thrown a man twice his size across a room with one hand, disappeared before her very eyes in the split second of a gunshot on _two_ separate occasions, had even died and come back to life… but because of that _one_ time she’d shot him and he’d bled, she’d decided he couldn’t be who he said he was and had presumably come up with all sorts of alternative explanations for everything she’d seen. The woman was being so aggravatingly pig-headed about it! But there was one thing in all of that that didn’t make any sense to Lucifer. Maybe it would help him get through to her…

“Alright, yes I’m a bastard, there’s no doubt about that, I can’t seem to help myself. I’ve hurt you again and I apologise. But not for what you’re accusing me of!”

Chloe frowned. He could see she was slightly taken aback at his choice of words which had echoed her own thoughts, but in typical Chloe fashion was dismissing it as a coincidence.

He went on, “I know you’re the kind of logical person who looks for rational explanations, and that serves you extremely well as a detective. I deeply admire that about you. You always figure things out. And you were determined to figure _me_ out, as well.”

Chloe said nothing, but in her thoughts heard her mutter _are you finally going to stop with this crap?_

He forged ahead, dark eyes earnest on hers. “But you stopped trying, didn’t you? When you decided not to test my blood. You had it right there in your hand - empirical evidence that I was a mere mortal with a few parlour tricks up my sleeve. When we first met you told me you stuck with something until you got answers. But you had proof and didn’t test it. Why?”

She stared back at him. _Because the whole idea is completely ludicrous! I wasn’t going to fall for it again like when I shot you!_

But she said, “I thought… hoped, I could trust you. And I hoped if I was patient, you’d come clean on your own.” She scowled, and Lucifer had a sudden feeling of hopeless dread, as if a tsunami was bearing down on him and there was nothing he could do to get out of its way.

He reached towards her and said desperately, “But Detective… _Chloe…_ ”

She backed away a step and raised her hand in refusal. “No. I’ve had it. You pushed me away after I nearly died, and I let you back in my life. Now you’re pushing me away again. I guess you’ll never trust me. And after this I can’t trust you either.” She steeled herself, seeming to come to a decision.

“Goodbye, Lucifer.” She whirled, grabbing her coat from the back of the couch and storming off towards the elevator.

Lucifer was stunned. _What? No, no, no!_

He chased after her. “Detective, please don’t leave! I’m not trying to push you away, I’m trying to show you who I really am! You need to believe me!”

He tried to block her path but she growled “NO, Lucifer!” and shouldered past him. She angrily punched the button and got in, turning to glare at him with her arms crossed protectively over her chest and a stony expression on her face. Her voice in his head, though, was soft, and heartbroken.

_I don’t know what your deal is Lucifer, but you crossed the line. I can’t let you be in my life any more._

Lucifer would never force her, so he could do nothing but stand helplessly by and watch her leave. As the doors closed and the elevator took her away from him despair settled in his chest like cold lead. Despite his best efforts, he’d ruined everything. He’d lost her, and he didn’t have a clue what he could do to get her back.

 

\------------------------

 

Next day, a townhouse in Beverly Hills

Dr Linda Martin had just finished carefully arranging herself on the couch for some Netflix therapy when her front doorbell rang. She groaned. Moving around still hurt like a sonofabitch and she hadn’t planned on interrupting her _Outlander_ marathon until her bladder dictated it. She wasn’t expecting any deliveries or visitors - Maze had left an hour ago and besides, she’d just walk in, not use the doorbell, so that meant it was probably someone doorknocking for her Salvation. She didn’t have the energy for her usual strategy - interrogation regarding their ideologies about good and evil and the role of the Devil, heated discussion, then ejection from her doorstep - so she decided to pretend she wasn’t home.

It didn’t work - 10 seconds later the bell rang again. And again. And _again_. Dammit, why weren’t they getting the hint!? She sighed and gingerly worked her way to the edge of the couch, being careful not to strain her still very tender stomach, then shuffled over to the front door. To her increasing annoyance the bell rang yet again just before she got there, but the acerbic comment she’d been about to utter sat unspoken on her lips because instead of a Bible Basher on her doorstep it was the Devil himself.

He peeked around the massive bouquet of flowers in his arms and grinned at her standing there in her PJs and bathrobe. ”Have I interrupted an afternoon delight? Back in the saddle already, you little devil. I would have texted first but I haven’t got a new phone yet.”

Linda’s surprise turned quickly to relief. “Lucifer! You’re all right! Where have you been?!” She embraced him; their therapist/patient boundaries had been shot to Hell right from the get go. She fleetingly wondered how he knew where she lived, but then shrugged. This was Lucifer.

He hugged her back very tentatively, as if he thought she was made of porcelain, or perhaps C4.

“Bit of a long story, actually. May I come in? I won’t keep you long; I’ve got something for you.”

“Of course, come in!” She stepped back to admit him, and Lucifer noticed her slow, painful movements and frowned. He quickly closed the door behind him, put the flowers on the coffee table, then touched her on the shoulder.

“May I?” To Linda’s surprise, he gently picked her up and carried her back to her wide couch, laid her carefully down and perched next to her. Linda was taken aback, to say the least. Lucifer had shown he was incredibly considerate as a lover, but she’d never seen him so attentive where sex wasn’t involved.

Lucifer gave her the bouquet, then removed a ribbon-tied box from his jacket pocket and gave that to her as well. It was from an exquisite chocolatier in South Silverlake.

“Sorry these are a bit belated; I went to the hospital in a bit of a rush last time, and I’ve since been… detained.”

Linda eyed the chocolates wistfully. “Mmm, you do know how to tempt a girl, Lucifer.” She grinned knowingly at him and he chuckled back, his dark eyes crinkling adorably. _God, still gorgeous,_ Linda thought, then checked herself. _Uh… whoops… you know what I mean._

“Thank you, that’s very thoughtful. I look forward to enjoying them, though I’m still on soft bland foods for a couple more days while my innards go back to normal. I just had my sutures taken out yesterday.”

Lucifer fidgeted slightly. “Well there’s something I can do to help with that, actually. Relax and close your eyes, Linda. And please - this is important - keep them closed.”

Linda smiled and shot him a curious look as if to say _o-kay?_ , but his expression was uncharacteristically serious so she did as he asked. A few moments later she felt him stand up, heard a strange soft _thump_ , then a quiet rustling. She squeaked and flinched, ticklish, when she felt him touch her neck, push up both sleeves of her robe, and push aside the layers of robe and pyjama top over her stomach, but kept her eyes closed.

Then she felt a strange warmth flowing into her, and a weightless, contented feeling.

“Lucifer, what-?”

She gasped at a sudden strong feeling of vertigo - her entire body felt lighter, almost as if she was floating. Through her closed eyelids she could see a brilliant golden glow, so bright it hurt a little, even after she squeezed her eyes more tightly shut. The luminescence seemed to pour through her, from the tips of her toes to the ends of her hair, leaving a feeling of comfort in its wake. Then as quickly as it had begun the feeling faded, and she sighed, strangely bereft at its loss.

“You can open your eyes now.”

She did so, blinking away a few white spots in her vision, and looked down at herself, then up at Lucifer, who gazed back at her from the chair opposite with a satisfied smile on his face.

“What the Hell was that? What did you do to me, Lucifer?”

Instead of answering her, he asked, “How do you feel, darling?”

Linda realised with a start that she felt fine. No, better than fine, actually - better than she’d felt all week. Or even before that! No pain, nothing! She felt amazing!

“I feel great! But...”

“Basking in the afterglow? I haven’t been allowed to do that to you for a while, have I?” He smirked.

“Lucifer.”

“Oh, very well.” He crossed one leg elegantly over the other and said nonchalantly, “I fixed you. I’m sorry I couldn’t have done it sooner...”

Linda rolled her eyes at him and bounced experimentally in her seat, then lifted her pyjama top and started picking at a corner of the dressing. “Well duh, I figured _that_ out. But how?”

“With some of my feathers, which have healing properties. You see, Dad’s resurrected my wings.”

Linda froze, momentarily stunned into speechlessness. Her imagination chose that moment to throw at her an image of the Devil standing before her, powerful, gleaming black wings arching from his back, his eyes glowing crimson embers. She shivered… but not from cold.

“Can I see them?”

“Sorry Linda, you can’t.”

“Why not?” She couldn’t keep the disappointment out of her voice.

“To be frank, because seeing them might derange you. They are Divine, and as such not meant for human eyes - they tend to cause a bit of… religious fervour and obsession, to say the least. Manky old relics like bones and burial shrouds still inspire religious ecstasy thousands of years later, and my wings, even severed, sent the two humans who stole them crazy. One threw himself off a building and the other became enslaved to an obsession with them.”

“Yes, but I already _know_ you’re an angel. So shouldn’t your entire body count as a religious relic? No offence.” She giggled. “And I’m fine with it.” _More than fine_ , her inner voice added treacherously. She told it to shut up.

Lucifer smiled. “Not really. Our wings are really the only parts of us that are truly Divine. Which is why I don’t want mine. Besides, I’d rather not chance it, Linda. If I damaged you in that way it could not be undone. My feathers can’t heal those sorts of injuries. We’d need Raphael for that, and we’re hardly on speaking terms.”

Ah, another sibling mentioned but for once she wasn’t really paying attention. Linda was dying of curiosity to see Lucifer’s wings - who wouldn’t be - and she couldn’t help but feel a little peeved at his treating her with kid gloves like this. She knew he was just trying to protect her, but he was probably being overly cautious because he felt guilty about what his mother had done to her. Lucifer Morningstar being cautious and thinking of consequences? Out of character, to say the least. Too bad for her that he’d decided to start now.

Some of her pique must have shown on her face because Lucifer added quietly, “You’re not angry with me, are you Linda?” Something in his voice made her glance at him. He looked a bit… wounded. That sad-eyed, kicked baby seal look he got that made her want to rub circles on his back and feed him cookies and milk.

“No, no of course not, Lucifer. I understand completely, it’s no big deal…”

He interrupted her, uncharacteristically earnest. “It’s just that everyone seems to be angry with me. Chloe won’t talk to me because she thinks I whammied her, Maze won’t talk to me because I let Mum hurt you, and I didn’t even do anything to Amenadiel but he won’t talk to me either.”

Linda lifted a quizzical eyebrow at him and he elaborated, “I asked him to cut my wings off for me and he got all mopey because he apparently hasn’t gotten his back.”

Linda suppressed the shudder of horror she felt at Lucifer speaking so casually about mutilating himself and mentally bookmarked that subject for later. At least there was currently no one willing to help him do it so it gave her some time to talk him out of again resorting to self-harm. However blase he wanted to appear she knew that cutting off his own limbs, as much part of him as his arms and legs, could be nothing but excruciatingly painful and traumatic and she couldn’t let him do that to himself again.

“But Amenadiel was able to slow time, wasn’t he? Maze told me she would never have got me to the ER in time if he hadn’t helped.”

Lucifer nodded. “Yes. And as an added bonus he saved our and hundreds of other people’s arses from getting blown to kingdom come when the Mexican Godson tried to shoot Mum. If he’d succeeded, her Light would have destroyed the entire pier and everyone on it. Including me, probably, since Chloe was there.”

Lucifer shook his head and huffed a bitter laugh. “But that’s just Dad for you. Amenadiel is His favourite son but doesn’t give him his wings back even though he wants them, and I’m the major disappointment who _doesn’t_ want his wings and yet He forces them back on me. I averted war in Heaven, sent my own Mother into exile, did all His dirty work for him, _again_ , and first thing He does is point me back to Hell.”

He paused, then added venomously, “Fucker.”

Linda’s eyes widened and she looked up at the ceiling, tensing visibly. Lucifer noticed and chuckled. “Don’t worry, He’s not going to smite me with a bolt of lightning or meteors or anything like that. He doesn’t do that Biblical stuff any more. And He never listens to me anyway, unless I’ve got something He wants.”

Linda let out the breath she hadn’t realised she’d been holding and folded her hands in her lap. She regrouped and pursed her lips thoughtfully.

“Is it possible there’s another reason He gave you your wings back?”

“No.”

“What does it mean, having them back? Will it really change things?”

“Of course it will!” Lucifer said petulantly. “I can’t have any more sleepovers, for starters. The stupid things might pop out of their own accord while I’m asleep and I can’t be having my play dates going crazy and obsessive and all _bunny boiler_ on me. I can still _have_ sex, thankfully, but I’m going to have to blindfold everyone because my wings also pop out right when I…”

“Oh!” cut in Linda, her eyebrows somewhere near her hairline as she once again struggled with mental imagery. Then she cleared her throat and added in her measured therapist’s voice, “I see.” Lucifer seemed unwilling to engage with her with any real seriousness on the subject, so she decided it was something else they would have to work on, perhaps when it wasn’t still so raw.

“So Lucifer, where have you been? You said you ‘were detained’?” The corner of her mouth quirked skeptically. “Is that code for ‘got scared and ran off again’?”

He looked quite offended. “Absolutely not! After I said goodbye to you I was all set to drive over to the Detective’s place and tell her everything, but I was waylaid by my charming sister Azrael. The spiteful cow cold-cocked me and dumped me in the middle of the Mojave.”

Linda’s eyebrows shot up. “Azrael… as in Angel of Death Azrael?”

Lucifer nodded. “The very same. And to answer your next question, yes, she was after her blade. I told her I didn’t have it and after we traded punches for a bit she left me out there. Said she wanted me to suffer for a while. It took me two days and the kindness of strangers plus an enormous favour from the Douche to get home.”

Linda frowned. “Two days? Why didn’t you just -”

Lucifer cut in. “What, fly back? Just accept that Dad had forced his precious _gifts_ ” he spat the word, “back on me after what I went through to be rid of them? Just suck it up and be okay with it? Not bloody likely.”

Linda’s eyes softened in realisation. “You feel violated.”

The Devil grunted. “What else is new. It’s always been quite clear that Free Will and consent are concepts He feels apply only to humanity, not us.”

Linda reached out and put her hand on his arm. “Now I know what it took for you to use your feathers to heal me. And I didn’t even thank you. So - thank you, Lucifer.”

Lucifer looked uncomfortable. “Yes, well, it wouldn’t have even been necessary if I hadn’t gotten you nearly killed in the first place…”

“No, Lucifer.” Linda said firmly. “That wasn’t your fault. You shouldn’t blame yourself for the actions of others. Like you always say, the Devil has never made anybody do anything.” He nodded, but still wouldn’t meet her eyes. Stubborn mule. 

“So you said Chloe was angry with you? For ‘whammying’ her? What happened?” Linda’s heart sank. She’d been hoping against hope Chloe would take the revelation of Lucifer’s true identity better than she had. She was closer to him than Linda had been when she learned, after all.

“I didn’t whammy her, but she thinks I did. I started by trying to show her my true face but my burns seem to have all healed, so I jumped off the balcony and landed behind her. She thinks I hypnotised her into seeing all that.”

Oh, God, he didn’t really do that to her, did he? But... of course he did. Wait... what?

“Your true face... healed? There’s no burns?”

“I woke up in the desert looking like I had a bad case of sunburn, but nothing like the Lasagna Man I showed you, no.”

“Lucifer, don’t you see what this means? Pardon the metaphor, but your father could be extending an olive branch. It could be a peace offering; a way of showing gratitude.” Lucifer scoffed loudly at that, but she continued. “If God has healed the burns from your Fall, giving your wings back might not mean He wants you back in Hell after all.”

Lucifer tiredly rubbed his face. “Frankly I don’t really give a damn what it means, Linda. It doesn’t change anything, and nothing matters any more,” he said morosely. “The Detective said in no uncertain terms she didn’t trust me or want me as her partner any longer. I went to her apartment but she wouldn’t open the door. Maze was of no help whatsoever; she never wanted me to tell the Detective in the first place. She yelled at me to piss off and then threw knives until I left. I’ve tried calling and texting Chloe too but she won’t answer. The precinct is closing ranks around her… I think I’m an emoji away from a restraining order. I’ve buggered everything up.”

Linda stayed silent, chewing her lip, then suggested, “What if I talked to her?”

Lucifer’s face brightened hopefully and he looked for a moment like he might accept, then his face fell and he shook his head.

“Thank you for the offer, darling, but she’ll only get mad at you too. Or most probably think you’re a basket case for believing me, and pack you off to the loony bin. No, leave it. I’ve wreaked enough destruction upon your life.”

Linda nodded reluctantly, then asked, “So what are you going to do now?”

Lucifer’s face split into a huge grin, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“Well, thanks to a favour I’ve managed to secure a carton of Everclear from out of state, so I’m going home to attempt to obliterate meself.”

Linda gaped at him. “The 190 proof vodka?”

Lucifer nodded.

“Isn’t that stuff illegal?”

“Uh-huh. In fourteen states. The most potent alcohol on Earth.”

Linda went pale. “It’s basically poison!”

Lucifer shrugged. “Tomato, tomahto. I’m most likely completely immune to booze now but I’m willing to give it a shot. I’ve got nothing else to do. I’ll talk to you later, Linda. Enjoy the choccies.” He leaned in, pecked her lightly on the forehead, then turned and left. Linda watched him go with a stricken look on her face.

_I don’t know how I can help him._

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- It's gonna be okay. I promise.  
> \- This is my reconciling to myself WHY Chloe has so stubbornly refused to believe Lucifer's claims of being the Devil despite everything she's seen that would back them up... the 'I needed the eggs' thing never quite sat *quite* right with me. She could've HAD the eggs AND the proof, but she chose not to. Why she did so I'll address later in the story, if you haven't stormed off in disgust before then :) Just want to say I didn't like doing it either! But I also kinda did... does that make me a horrible person?  
> -The "Lasagna Man” comment references the hilarious 'Lucifer on crack part 2' video on YouTube by ChasingSparks. Sooo funny! Part 1 is even funnier; first several viewings I was in TEARS.  
> \- Also poor Linda, not allowed to see Lucifer's wings but being all understanding and caring about it. I'd be pissed. Which is probably why I'm not a therapist.


	7. The Hero in You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Chloe finally gets it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry it's a bit later than usual, I was having a DEVIL of a time with the start of this chapter. ;)  
> With the wonderful PokerFace84's expert guidance and advice I did finally get here, and in case you're interested I'm also posting a quick one-shot, 'Drivin' Down the Highway', which I wrote this afternoon while I was procrastinating finishing this chapter. Think of it as a sort-of apology. But also a thank you, for sticking with this fic and being so supportive! You are all really making this the most enjoyable and satisfying writing experience I've ever had :D xxx

Chloe adjusted the velcro straps of her body armour, checked her sidearm and pulled her jacket closer in the chilly night breeze. The ATF taskforce she was part of was at the Long Beach docks about to bust a guy with ties to a criminal gang running weapons out of the country, but taking their own sweet time about it. Just another day at the office.

A body with most of its head missing had been found in the hold of a cargo ship which had left port in California bound for Hong Kong. The ship had encountered huge swell, containers had shifted, a few had broken open, and one had revealed the body of a Chinese national along with several dozen crates of automatic weapons, a full week before the ship was due to dock and the corpse expected to be discovered. With help from the Coast Guard they had backtracked the container to a facility known to store black market goods and were about to arrest the exporter before he could disappear.

When they’d arrived at the address Chloe had felt a pang; the last time she’d been here Lucifer had been with her. Their first official case together, which turned out to involve the theft of _his_ storage container, and that whole Russian dolls / cosplay wings weirdness that ensued. She shook her head, remembering. First he’d blown her off, then come back all evasive. During the course of the investigation he’d assaulted an informant, gotten obsessive, and then finally just changed his mind and didn’t care at all.

 _God_ he was weird. So weird. And aggravating, and reckless, and… she missed him. She’d cooled down a little since last night and had been trying to work out why he’d done what he did.

He was a great partner. He’d always treated her as an equal, always listened to her, even if he often decided to then do his own crazy shit for his own unfathomable reasons. But he’d never given her reason to distrust him. Until now. And in this job you had to be able to trust your partner... unless you had a death wish.

She blew out a frustrated breath at the Feds clustered around the hood of her car. How long were these ATF guys going to drag this out for? Jerkoffs couldn’t find their asses with both hands.

At least it wasn’t another stakeout. She’d just finished two days in the car with no company besides the other cops on the radio for a job which proved to be the dullest and most pointless in recent memory. They’d acted on a tipoff which proved to be bogus, so they’d spent 48 hours eating vending machine sandwiches and watching an innocent warehouse for nothing.

She couldn’t help thinking it would’ve actually been fun if Lucifer had been there. He complained endlessly about how boring it all was but he always stayed. _Had_ always stayed. But now, since she was on her own again she was going to get assigned a new partner. The thought made her heart twinge. Her innuendo-making, eye mojo working, loose cannon consultant would probably be replaced with some jaded donut eater who’d either be unable to get past the fact she was a reasonably attractive female or had listened to too much department gossip about 1) her movie career 2) Palmetto and 3) her relationship with her nutjob Devil ex-partner.

She recalled that mad dash to Lucifer’s balcony railing, sure she was about to see him broken and dead on the ground. Her stomach dropped at the memory. Then she shook her head in exasperation for the fiftieth time that day.

_Lucifer what the Hell were you thinking?_

He had been persistent about trying to contact her since, but in all the messages he’d left begging to see her, and the flowers he’d sent to apologise for scaring her, there had been no apology for tricking her. And he was usually good about apologising once she’d made it clear what he’d done wrong. He didn’t seem to realise he’d betrayed her. And why did it feel like she had betrayed him?

He thinks he’s the Devil, thought he was invulnerable until the day he dared her to shoot him. He fixates on murder suspects as being his parents, is capable of extreme violence… one day he insists he’s not evil, then the next he turns around and says that he is. And then does something like standing in front of a crazed sniper and daring him to shoot.

Her rational mind kept telling her it was the only choice. She had her daughter, her life, her job to think about.

Ending their partnership was clearly the right decision.

So why did it _feel_ so wrong?

It had always been an eccentricity of his, this claiming to be the Devil, and she’d been able to ignore it because he listened to her, would stop when she asked him to, but in the back of her mind she’d always suspected he had adopted the Lucifer persona to try to make himself impervious to feeling some past suffering. Like when he’d gotten those horrific injuries on his back. The scars had been removed, so physically he was whole again but that didn’t reflect his mental state... what he’d done last night proved that he’d become unhinged.

She realised with a slow crawl of horror that he hadn’t tricked her; he had completely believed everything he’d said. The trauma of being abducted and left to die in the desert must have caused him to have a psychotic break. How hadn’t she seen it before? Probably because Lucifer had always been on the abnormal side of normal, but aside from running out on her he’d never done anything like this to hurt her before. In fact she’d been the one to hurt _him_ , when she’d shot him.

And now he was suffering from a full blown delusion. In desperation, he’d instinctively reached out to her, and what had she done? She’d hit him and called him a liar and walked out on him. Hurt him again, rejected him right when he needed her the most.

She remembered the devastated look on his face as the elevator doors were closing - like his world was ending. He had begged her to stay and she’d steeled herself with anger against his despair and just... left. Chloe felt suddenly nauseous.

_Oh God, I abandoned him. Like his dad. Like his mom._

_I needed to be there for him, like he’s been for me, albeit in a different way, and I just didn’t understand. Got mad and walked out on him._

She couldn’t be here; she had to go see him. He needed her. Her fists clenched at her sides in impotent frustration and her stomach churned. The _second_ this damned timewaster of a job was over she’d get in touch with Linda and tell her what happened, and together they should be able to talk him into getting the help he needed. Westridge hadn’t been much help during Lucifer's 72-hour hold during the God Johnson case but in light of recent events and without the distraction of an investigation hopefully this time the treatment would yield results. Chloe swallowed past a sudden lump in her throat; it had to.

Meanwhile, the Feds had finally quit yakking and they were ready to move in. With guns drawn, the taskforce headed silently across the darkened lot towards the large storage hangar. They quickly located the suspect loading crates into the back of a van.

“Freeze! ATF! Brad Dang, you are under arrest for murder and arms trafficking - let me see your hands!”

But instead of coming quietly Dang ran behind a stack of crates, another man leaned out of the back of the van and started shooting and angry shouts came from the rear of the storage space. More bad guys.

The agent next to Chloe went down and Chloe clapped a hand to a sudden sting in her neck; it came away bloody from the graze of a too-close bullet.

Everyone scattered, diving for cover, shooting, and yelling. Chloe dragged the fallen agent behind a shipping container, and in the confusion she managed to slip out of the building and call for backup. The ATF apparently hadn’t realised Dang had backup of his own, none of whom seemed to be particularly fazed about killing cops.

Chloe sprinted into a labyrinth of shipping containers in the huge lot next door, planning to stealthily work her way around to her car.

She could hear the gunmen shouting to each other, looking for her, and the yells of some of her colleagues as they continued blasting away at other suspects inside the building. She kept to the shadows and tried to be as quiet as possible.

They needed backup. Chloe prayed it would arrived in time.

 

\--------------------

 

Lucifer lay on the couch, shirt untucked, mostly-empty bottle in hand, watching his favourite movie, _Deadpool_. Hilarious one-liners, Ryan Reynolds in leather, glorious insults, Morena Baccarin in leather, a British Villain, copious amounts of blood-spattered celluloid punishment… he adored it.

As suspected, the booze was having little to no effect on him, and unfortunately the movie wasn’t having its usual effect on him either. The ending, usually his favourite part, was now just pissing him off.

 

_(Vanessa removes stapled photo of Hugh Jackman’s face from Deadpool’s kisser and sees Wade in all his scarred, pitted, avocado-faced glory)_

_Vanessa: Wow._

_Wade: Yeah._

_(Wade doesn’t meet her eyes)_

_Vanessa : Hey._

_(She moves closer to lovingly pull a staple out of his chin)_

_Vanessa: After a brief adjustment period, and a bunch of drinks, it’s a face… I’d be happy to sit on._

 

_(She smiles, he smiles, they link pinkies, the music swells and they live happily ever after.)_

 

\------

 

Lucifer swore disgustedly at the TV. Bloody Hollywood.

Why couldn’t Chloe have said something like that to him? Why did Father have to go and sabotage things? Linda hadn’t had any problem whatsoever believing he was the Devil, even if his true face had initially scared her catatonic.

Deadpool’s usually highly amusing voiceover was annoying the shit out of him too.

_The right girl will bring out the hero in you._

Well that was a nice dream filled with tapdancing unicorns farting rainbows but it was a complete load of bollocks, wasn’t it? There was no hero in him, especially not to the one person who actually mattered. It used to fill him with hope, the thought that Chloe saw him for who he really was. Her Beauty to his monstrous Hell Beast.

And now she saw him so completely for _who_ he was she couldn’t see him for _what_ he was, and it had ruined everything. Lucifer muttered several choice expletives and swigged from the bottle. Why couldn’t real life be more like the movies?

The movie ended and Lucifer returned to his earlier pastime of kicking himself over how he’d mishandled showing her.

WHY hadn’t he thought to craft a speck of sunshine for her instead of jumping off the balcony and scaring her half to death?

Or bring the Northern Lights a couple thousand miles south, or even light a simple bloody candle from across the room? He’d forgotten he had all his powers back, and leaped, quite literally, before he took a second to THINK first, was why.

_Hello, my name is Lucifer Morningstar and I am a massive twonk._

He stood up, tucked in his shirt and carried the empty vodka bottle to the kitchen to toss it with the others. _To Hell with this_ , he thought to himself. He was turning into his dullard brother, drinking alone. _And this stuff tastes ruddy awful and it’s not doing a damn thing._ He decided to head down to Lux; maybe his patrons could provide a distraction.

Anything to stop thinking about Chloe and how he’d made a complete mess of things.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Patrick lined up another row of shots for his boss, wondering, as he often did, how the hell Lucifer could drink so much and stay standing. He always had a drink in his hand while he did the rounds at Lux, but tonight something seemed... different. His drinking seemed almost desperate.

Patrick knew Lucifer had an incredible tolerance for alcohol, but he couldn’t help wondering if he’d have to cut off his own boss in order to not lose their liquor licence.

Earlier Lucifer had seemed fine, or at least his version of fine, if even more distracted than usual. While Patrick had worked the bar he’d kept one wary eye on him, and it gradually became clear that something was definitely off. Every time he glanced over he’d see Lucifer laughing in the middle of a cluster of people, or with someone’s arms wrapped around him or their hands on his ass or their tongue down his throat. Again, nothing unusual there, but not a single one of the endless stream of elegantly dressed men and women who flocked to him were taken upstairs. Lucifer would just stop, shake his head and walk away. Definitely off.

Finally he appeared to have had enough and retreated to the bar, where he leaned against the counter ignoring all propositions and entreaties to play piano, and just drank with a single-mindedness that was scary. Even Patrick’s attempts at conversation stalled, and Lucifer was notorious for not being able to shut up. Patrick was getting worried.

Suddenly Lucifer froze, shot glass halfway to his lips, staring wide-eyed into the mirror behind the bar. He uttered a single word Patrick couldn’t make out over the bass thumping of the music and slammed his drink back down onto the marble countertop.

For a split second Patrick thought he saw the bar lights reflect strangely in Lucifer’s black eyes, as if the irises glowed white, then there was a loud electrical sizzle from overhead and the music abruptly cut off.

Several people in the crowd groaned good naturedly into the sudden stunned silence and a few others laughed, but before anyone else could react every spotlight in the club exploded simultaneously. The huge room was plunged into darkness, showers of hot sparks raining down everywhere. Patrick yelped and flinched away, shielding his face.

“Shit!”

There were screams, then a loud, heavy thumping noise and a powerful blast of wind, like a shockwave, and gasps and shouts of confusion echoed around Patrick along with loud thuds and the sound of smashing glass. A few seconds later the red emergency lighting flickered to life.

When Patrick cautiously raised his head he saw a swathe of people around the bar picking themselves up off the floor, and the dance floor emptying rapidly as clubgoers ran in a panic for the exits. Patrick looked around frantically but couldn’t see Lucifer’s towering form anywhere in the crowd.

“Boss?!”

What the hell _was_ that? Some kind of bomb? An earthquake? Patrick shook his head in confusion, his heart pounding and adrenalin starting to course through him. Lucifer was nowhere to be seen, but he was probably already somewhere out in the chaos, marshalling the rest of the staff and making sure everyone got out safely.

Meanwhile, he would be assuming his head bartender was also doing his job, so Patrick locked the registers and rushed off to help clear the club, pulling his cellphone from his pocket to call 911.

 

\----------------------------

 

Chloe squinted through the swirling fog, back propped against a shipping container and trying to keep her left hand pressed to the gushing wound in her thigh. Her right shakily held her gun out in front of her; she’d fired several rounds and managed to take out one of the gunmen and keep another shooter at bay, but the strength in her arms was ebbing, and her gun was so incredibly heavy. Spots danced in front of her eyes and her weapon clattered to the ground - she no longer had the strength to lift it.

With difficulty she pulled out her phone, but when she tried to swipe it open her blood just smeared across the screen and it slipped from her fingers. Dizzy, she turned her head, and saw the gleaming barrel of a gun appear at the far end of the row, half hidden in the darkness. She knew there were at least four more suspects out there, armed to the teeth, and she had no idea where the rest of the taskforce was. The bust had gone bad; as bad as it could get.

She hadn’t felt this helpless as a cop since the day Malcolm took Trixie and forced her to surrender her weapons. She willed herself not to panic, but there was nothing she could do.

 _I’m in trouble, Lucifer. Did you follow me this time too?_ She thought despairingly. _Please be out there. I need you... I need another paper airplane... I need a miracle._

Black spots crowded her vision; she couldn’t see the guy with the gun any more. He must have seen her, though, and she quailed, expecting any moment to feel the impact of a final bullet.

Suddenly there was loud _whoosh_ ing sound, and Chloe heard screaming, and gunshots. Loud thumping and strange rustling noises seemed to come from all around her, then there were several muted thuds like something soft hitting something metal. A car engine revved loudly, she heard the squeal of tyres, and then there was a loud crash and the screech of twisting metal. Just before she passed out, she heard the unmistakable click of a gun being cocked, and the report of a gunshot, from so close by she knew she was dead.

 

\-----------------------------

 

Lucifer growled in fury from above as the man fired at Chloe. The lead projectile superheated instantly into a silvery bubble in midair, before disappearing in a puff of vapour and a mini thunderclap. Lucifer landed in front of the Detective, his wings spread wide to shield her and his eyes blazing with Light. The gunman fell to his knees, his face blanching white and his eyes rolling in terror.

He jerkily lifted the gun and in a panic pulled the trigger again and again, but the bullets exploded harmlessly before they reached their target. The Devil’s voice deepened with rage to a guttural, inhuman register.

“ _You’re going to regret that._ ”

A moment later the propellant inside all the remaining bullets in the magazine detonated, blowing the gun apart and the shooter’s hand with it. Shrapnel, blood and bone fragments sprayed everywhere and the shooter shrieked and fell to the ground writhing in agony, cradling the ruins of his hand to his chest. Lucifer barely spared him a glance as he turned back to the Detective, but he muttered to himself under his breath.

 _You’re lucky I’m in such a hurry, you vermin,_ he fumed _, or I would have made that take a_ lot _longer._

Then he saw Chloe. She was unconscious, slumped against the side of a shipping container with blood pumping from her left thigh in alarming spurts. Her hands were covered in her own blood where she’d tried to staunch the flow, to no avail. It pooled around her, bright and glistening on the cold concrete, her phone lying in it. Sirens, flashing lights, shouting and more gunshots came from the far end of the shipyard; other cops were moving in. Lucifer had dealt with most of the gunmen - Chloe’s colleagues would eventually find two with broken legs knocked out on top of a couple of shipping containers and a few more in a getaway car that had been half embedded in a warehouse wall - but they weren’t going to get to Chloe in time to be able to save her.

He bent to gather the detective into his arms.

“Detective! It’s alright, I’ve got you, you’re safe now...”

She groaned almost inaudibly and his heart leapt - he still had time. He held her close to his chest, unfurled his wings and launched them into the cool night air. With quick, powerful downstrokes he took off into the swirling smoke and fog.

 

\-----------------------

 

Someone was calling her name.

_Chloe..._

She became vaguely aware she was being held in someone’s arms - against a broad, strong male chest. It carried a familiar, spicy scent, like whisky spiked with cinnamon, but she couldn’t say where she knew it from. She was confused for several moments, her thoughts thick and slow as treacle, before she realised.

 _It’s Lucifer… why’s Lucifer here?_ she wondered idly.

A strong wind buffeted her, blowing tendrils of hair against her cheek and she shivered. She was so cold, and her numbed limbs felt heavy as stone. She could barely muster the energy to lift her head.

She heard sounds of shouting and gunfire, but they were muffled and coming from far away, drowned out by a deep, rhythmic thumping, like a heartbeat. It wasn’t Lucifer’s though; with her right ear pressed against his warm chest she could hear his heart loud and clear, beating much faster.

So what was that noise? She squinted upwards and her head fell back; it felt like it weighed a ton. And arching above her, behind the silhouette of Lucifer’s head in the darkness, she saw…

_Wings?_

Chloe huffed a delirious laugh.

_First it’s horns, now I’m giving him wings. Great big pretty glow-in-the-dark ones too. I wonder if Maze is spying on me again…_

Her eyelids fluttered closed and she murmured dreamily, “Show us your love handles Lucifer...”

_Chloe? Chloe, stay with me! Please… just hold on… we’re nearly there…_

She heard Lucifer’s voice, urgent but getting fainter. He was begging her to stay.

Why? Where was she going?

She gasped as a sudden spasm of pain racked her body and she remembered; shouting, the blinding flare of muzzle flashes in the darkness, a succession of deafening gunshots with the last bullet tearing into her. She’d caught two in the vest and one more in the thigh. Blood had fountained from her leg like a hose; the bullet must have severed her femoral artery.

 _I’m bleeding out_ , she thought with detachment. _No..._

She mumbled again, a different kind of pain knifing through her and tears leaking from under her closed eyelids.

_I’m hallucinating. I’m dying. I’m gonna die. Trixie, baby, I don’t want to leave you like Dad left me. I’m so sorry, Monkey…_

The darkness rose again to drag her under and she was helpless against it.

 

\-----------------

 

Lucifer powered towards the Lux building as fast as Chloe’s mortal anatomy would allow, his wings knifing effortlessly through the night sky and their immortal muscles responding as though they’d never been gone. As they approached the penthouse balcony Lucifer aimed for the floor below, then pulled up sharply with perfect timing, coming to almost a complete stop in the air before dropping neatly over the glass railing. He landed at a run and rushed Chloe inside; it had been less than a minute since he’d whisked her off the docks, but she’d lost too much blood and she was slipping away… he could feel it.

“Chloe! Don’t you even _think_ about leaving!” He carried her into the living room and cleared the coffee table out of the way with a single kick, books scattering everywhere. He lay her down on the couch and ripped open her blood-soaked jeans leg; his stomach clenched with dread upon seeing the spurts of blood had reduced to a mere trickle. He reached back to roughly rip out a handful of downy axillaries from his right wing, thrust them hurriedly onto her wounds, then stowed his wings and knelt down beside her.

She sighed peacefully, and Lucifer felt a relief such as he’d never felt in his life; they’d made it. Then he frowned; his feathers weren’t glowing with healing. He looked closer and realised in an instant of blood-curdling terror that Chloe had stopped breathing.

“No, _no_ , _NO!!_ Chloe! _Come back!_ ”

She was untethered, drifting away. He grabbed her shoulders, pulling her desperately to him, and commanded her soul with all of his power to stop her crossing the threshold. He felt her soul waver uncertainly, unanchored for several agonising moments, before returning to where it belonged. She convulsed, taking a heaving breath, and Lucifer gently lowered her back down and sat next to her on the sofa, shaking with relief.

The feathers on her wounds instantly started to glow with such brilliance it seemed they had caught fire. Beams of golden light radiated from Chloe’s still form in all directions, filling the room and lancing through the night sky from the apartment windows as if from a lighthouse.

_Don’t let me be too late… Chloe, please…_

He covered both of her delicate hands with one of his, while the other gently brushed her hair back from her blood-spattered face. He could see the tracks of tears down her too-pale cheeks, and her skin was clammy and cold.

But as his feathers did their work, he almost sobbed with relief as he saw colour come back into her complexion and the pain etched between her brows start to ease. The feathers dissolved into nothingness but their Light remained, pooling in her wounds and illuminating her body from the inside out.

And then a few moments later, the light also faded and died, and Chloe was healed. She started to stir. Lucifer closed his eyes and took a deep shuddering breath.

_She’s alive. That’s the most important thing. Whatever happens now, she’s alive._

He steadied himself, holding both of her hands in his and trying to compose himself to look as reassuring as possible despite the frantic fluttering in his stomach.

The Detective’s eyes opened. She blinked several times, then took a moment to focus on the face hovering above her. A familiar, stubbled face with dark eyes and black hair. The face smiled hesitantly.

Her eyes widened in confusion. “Lucifer? What the Hell are you doing here?” She looked around, frowned, and sat up with a start, yanking her hands from his grasp. She seemed to realise she wasn’t where she thought she was. She was in Lucifer’s penthouse, not at the docks.

“Scratch that, what the Hell am _I_ doing _here_?”

“Detective, you were shot. Remember?”

“Yes… I do remember that. But how…”

“I flew you here, then I used my wing feathers to heal you. You’re all right now. Though the same can’t be said for your outfit, I’m afraid...” He gestured at her bloodied and torn clothes, aiming for casual and not quite succeeding.

Chloe gaped at him.

_Flew…?_

Lucifer was sitting next to her, bloodstains all over his suit and an anxious look on his face. She remembered being shot, there was no doubt in her mind that _had_ happened. It felt like someone had taken a baseball bat to her chest.

Her hand rose unconsciously to rub the ache, and her fingers encountered the broken fibers of her body armour. She looked down, and there were two jagged holes in the panel over her heart. The strong weave of her vest had slowed down and turned the bullets, saving her life.

But what about her leg? It was crusted with drying blood, her jeans leg completely ripped apart and soaked, but there was no wound. Just smooth, unbroken skin. But she _had_ been shot there, she was sure of it. She gulped and gooseflesh erupted along her arms.

_But... that’s what happens when you go crazy, isn’t it? You can’t tell what’s real any more._

Her face went almost as deathly pale as it had been when they’d arrived and she stared at Lucifer, her eyes wide with fear _._

_It’s finally happened. You’ve sucked me into your delusion. I had a close call when you convinced me to shoot you but I’ve really left the reservation this time. Oh, God, this can’t be happening..._

Lucifer shook his head. “No. You’re not delusional.”

Chloe did a double take. _Did I say that out loud…?_

Lucifer spoke gently, reasonably, trying not to spook her.

“You were most certainly shot. And you weren’t wearing any blood packs or anything like that, were you?” His mouth quirked ironically. “That’s a lot of blood, Detective, and it’s all yours. You’ve made quite a mess of my sofa, not to mention destroyed yet another Prada suit, but what’s a little wardrobe destruction between friends?” Gesturing to his shirt he gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

Chloe stared at him, ready to bolt. This was madness! What the Hell was going on? She was missing time, and both her and Lucifer were covered in blood - a _lot_. She’d taken a bullet in the thigh - she’d bled out, she should be dead. She clearly remembered getting shot, two kicks to the chest then her leg buckling under her at the impacts, but if that had really happened she’d be dead, not sitting here in Lucifer’s living room.

But she was certain it had been real!

But it _can’t_ have been real because _she wasn’t dead!_

He could see her thinking furiously, trying desperately to figure it out, and her eyes grew wild; she was close to tears.

“Don’t do this Lucifer, please stop messing with me, don’t make me think I’m crazy!”

Lucifer was appalled. “What? I’m doing nothing of the sort! You’re not crazy, don’t be bloody stupid!” He reached for her hand but she jerked it away.

Lucifer looked hurt at her reaction, and said vehemently, “Please, I’d much rather you were still pissed off at me than be upset like this...”

Chloe laughed, a desolate sound. “If I’m not crazy, then you must be lying. You’re using hypnosis on me again. You must be!”

Lucifer’s eyebrows lowered and he growled in exasperation. “For the so many-eth time, I do not lie! Why do your sanity and my honesty have to be mutually exclusive? For goodness’ sake Detective, this is getting ridiculous. What must I do to convince you?”

Chloe leapt from the sofa and said frantically, “You can’t! It just isn’t possible!”

Just then she noticed something dislodge from her lap and float gently down to the floor. It was a feather.

Disoriented, she bent down to pick it up. It was pristine and perfectly white, somehow untouched by all the blood it had been lying in. And, in the soft shadows of Lucifer’s dimly lit penthouse, it... glowed. From within, with a muted, pearly light. A strange, tingling warmth wound its way up her arm and she suddenly knew, without a shred of doubt, that Lucifer was telling her the truth. This was _his_ feather. And it was…

Otherworldly. Powerful. _Divine_.

She gasped.

“Detective? Chloe?”

Lucifer eyed her worriedly, cursing himself for being so careless. Was she all right? After everything he’d told her, and everything she’d seen, would this be the feather that broke the Doubting Thomas’ back? Or would it break her mind instead?

As Chloe stared at the feather all the impossible things she’d seen her partner do came back to her in disjointed flashes; Lucifer walking into bullets fired at point blank range by Jimmy Barnes and not getting a scratch. Lucifer one-handedly throwing an ex-footballer twenty feet across a room and through a glass wall. Lucifer surrounded by cops and getting shot at and disappearing in the blink of an eye. 

A split second glimpse of a burned, scarred face, and eyes that glowed like hot coals, reflected in polished steel in a darkened warehouse.

“Oh.” She gazed down at him, her eyes enormous in her pale face. She shook her head slightly.

“... _OH_.”

Her legs gave way and she sat suddenly back down with a thump.

  
_That_ Lucifer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- For me it’s a no-brainer that Lucifer loves Deadpool - the Beauty and the Beast theme is a tale as old as time, after all :) Plus the irreverent attitude, pop culture references, predilection for vigilante justice that Lucifer identifies with, and the Bodybags-like propensity for killing baddies and blowing shit up. Annnd the toilet humour and witticisms that Tom likes… Annnd I love it myself, especially that funny, sweet but tilted, yet totally romantic reveal scene.  
> \- Another wee cliffhanger, but never fear, I'll post the conclusion tomorrow, which is 'Lucifer Season 3 Premiere Eve' for us here in Australia. *screeeeaaaammmm* :D  
> \- A lot of Chloe's thoughts here; hopefully everyone will be a little bit less angry with her than they were at the end of Chapter 6... she is his partner and friend but let's face it she did have very good cause to do what she did. She's a strong, independent woman after all, and isn't about to let anyone, even someone she loves, mistreat her. Though she did reconsider that opinion after she cooled off a bit. And she is determined to rationalise everything!  
> \- Thoughts, comments, everything welcome!


	8. Wings and a Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Revelations, booze, fluff, wings and a prayer. In no particular order.

Chloe’s head swam, random thoughts jumbling together in a chaotic mess.

 

_The Devil is real. And he just saved my life._

 

_Again._

 

_My partner is the Lord of HELL. The goddamned Devil works for the goddamned LAPD._

 

_That’s why he’s so insanely strong. Not steroids._

 

_Not human._

 

 _God and Heaven are real. I’ll see Dad again someday._ Her throat tightened and her eyes stung _. Trixie will meet her Grandpa._

 

_Those really were wing scars._

 

_He said he got his wings back._

 

 _He really_ hasn’t _ever lied to me._

 

_Lucifer is The Devil. Everything he’s ever told me about himself, Hell, his dad - it’s all true._

Chloe looked at Lucifer with wide eyes, a flurry of emotions - shock, awe, joy, disbelief, awe again - crossing her face in quick succession. He had absolutely no idea what she was going to do. Laugh, cry, scream, shoot him, kick him in the balls, all of the above?

Then she frowned and shook her head, looking at him with an incredulous expression. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times.

Then she stammered, “But… you’re such a goober.”

He blinked. “I beg your pardon.”

Her voice was surer now. “You’re a total goofball.”

He raised an elegant eyebrow. “I’m the Devil, Detective. I’ve been called many things; Evil Incarnate, the Fallen One, Prince of Darkness, but no one’s ever called me a ‘goofball’ before.”

“But you totally are one. You laugh at words like ‘discharge’ and ‘abreast’. You doodle on official reports and prank people at work by stealing their cellphones and changing the ringer to squealing piglets or Michael Bolton songs or porn noises.” Chloe rambled on, seemingly thinking aloud, much to Lucifer’s amusement.

“You like cheesy action movies and cooking. You steal pudding!” She cut him a look. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you trying not to laugh when I said ‘doodle’.”

Lucifer snickered.

“You’ve saved my life like a dozen times already. Wouldn’t even take advantage of me when I got drunk and threw myself at you. You’re a good guy. But you’re… holy crap... _the_ _Devil_. You actually exist. For real. But how the... how does everybody have you so wrong?”

Lucifer stared at her, stunned, for several seconds, then beamed. Speech, reasoning, memory, all apparently intact! And she wasn’t running screaming for the hills either, which was a bonus.

“Chinese whispers and Christian fan fiction. Every half decent story needs a villain, Detective.”

“But it’s all a pile of horseshit!”

Lucifer’s heart warmed to hear the outrage in the Detective’s tone: she was still on his side!

“Artistic license, I believe it’s called. Horns and tails and bat wings and possession and that sort of bollocks. Spices up sermons and helps put the fear of Dad into people. I’d sue for defamation if I could find a Devil’s Advocate.”

“Now I get why you were so mad about the Satanist murders. It’s so unfair.”

“It suited the Church to make me the Adversary and pit me against my Father, because I served as a warning to those who would threaten their power. They aligned me with everything they deemed undesirable, particularly the questioning of authority.”  A self-satisfied grin crossed Lucifer’s face. “Well, at least they did get something right.”

Chloe snorted. “I’ll say. So does it actually have written in the Bible somewhere about what a huge pain in the ass you can be?”

Lucifer gave her his patented you’re-so-cute-when-you’re-annoyed-at-me look, which of course annoyed her. He _was_ a huge pain in the ass, but most definitely _not_ evil. Her mind was blown at the... _revelation_ (literally no other word for it) that Heaven and Hell and all that stuff was real, but she was actually being surprisingly okay about the fact that...

_Lucifer was actually who he’d said he was all along._

As if reading her thoughts he said into the silence, somewhat hopefully, she thought, “So you’re still not scared of me, then?”

Chloe shook her head, carefully, because it was starting to feel like it might start to float off by itself.

“No. Like I told you at the pier last week, I’ve known who you really are for a while now.  I would never have stayed partnered up with you if I genuinely thought you were dangerous, to… um ...Hell with what Olivia said. I guess I just didn’t know _what_ you were, not that it really makes a difference. You’re my best friend. I’m thinking… the Devil thing is more like a… a… job description?” Her hand went to her forehead.

“Though I think it’s going to take a while to _really_ sink in… ah, speaking of which, I need to sit.”

“You are sitting.”

“Oh. Right.”

Lucifer stood up and moved the coffee table back from where it was... flipped over the end of the couch? Weird. Chloe snorted. Yeah, no, the arrangement of Lucifer’s furniture was not that weird in the grand scheme of this evening’s weirdness.

“How about a Scotch? You’ve more than earned one.”

“Uh... _yeah_. Definitely.” More like five. 

Chloe watched him saunter over to the bar, retrieve a bottle and a couple of glasses, then come and sit back down next to her. Outwardly she was calm but inside she was still reeling. The real freakin’ honest to God… whoops… Devil was currently pouring her a drink.

Except he was also just... Lucifer, sitting there dapper as ever, though his clothes were slightly the worse for wear. As they often were after a case. She randomly wondered if he had wardrobe insurance.

He passed over her drink and clinked his glass to hers. Chloe took a healthy swallow. Then another one.

Lucifer hid a grin, and said, “So you’re taking this rather well, especially considering your previous declarations of agnosticism…”

Chloe barked a laugh. “Quite frankly, I’m mostly just relieved I’m not crazy! The thought I was going nuts was much scarier than the idea that you were actually telling me the truth!”

Lucifer laughed too. “Is that so?”

“Uh-huh. Big time. I thought I was going to end up like Jimmy. Screaming in a straitjacket and beating my head bloody against the wall.” She seemed to remember something, and shivered.

“What did you do to him?”

Lucifer cleared his throat. “I… revealed my true face, and showed him the error of his ways.”

“This ‘true’ face that you tried to show me yesterday but that you said had healed?”

Lucifer leaned back on the couch and nodded. “Yes. It came as quite a shock, naturally, but I didn’t even have time to think about it because I had to quickly think of some other way of proving myself to you. Inconvenient bloody timing, to say the least.”

Chloe frowned suddenly. “So then… why didn’t you just show me your wings? That would’ve saved a whole lot of me nearly having a heart attack then trying to punch you. It’s not like there’s even the slightest chance of a rational explanation for _them_.”

“Well I couldn’t before three days ago, since I didn’t actually _have_ them. And besides, they’re Divine, and like I told you before, not meant for human eyes. I can’t show you, for your own good.”

“Well too bad; I’ve seen them now. I… thought I was hallucinating. When you were carrying me back here, I saw big glowing wings behind you.”

“You _saw_ them?” Lucifer suddenly sat forward, seemingly worried again.

“Yeah. I didn’t say anything before because, well, keep in mind I totally thought I was seeing things.”

Lucifer looked at her appraisingly. “And… how do you feel now? When you think about them? Slightly unhinged? Any attacks of piety? Feeling obsessive at all?”

Chloe blushed. How she felt about them was… well, she’d rather keep that to herself.

“No, uh, I guess I… kinda...um... thought they were cool. They’re really… neat.”

Lucifer’s dark brows lowered suspiciously and Chloe felt more heat rush to her face. She added casually, “And you really don’t, you know, have horns?”

“What? No! Certainly not. If you saw me with horns I can categorically state you were indeed hallucinating at that point.”

Lucifer wasn’t altogether sure, human emotions still being mostly a mystery to him, but it seemed that the Detective was a little... disappointed? No, that couldn’t be right. Maybe… hungry? Maybe it was gas. Who the Hell knew.

With Lucifer looking at her in an uncomfortably piercing manner Chloe decided to return to a safer subject.

“So… obvious question... can I have a proper look now? In the interests of full disclosure and all…?”

He regarded her thoughtfully. “Well you’ve already seen them, and you seem to still possess all of your marbles. Perhaps you’re immune to them, as you are immune to the rest of me.”

He nodded to himself, appearing to reach a decision, and got to his feet. A moment later there was a loud _whump_ and a silken rustling sound and they just - unfolded from his back. Right through his clothes! They were as white and huge as she remembered; his wingspan was at least twice his considerable height.

 _Holy frickin’ dooley_.

She’d thought the wings at the auction were gorgeous and hadn’t understood why Lucifer had been so disappointed with them, but now she got it. There was no comparison to the real thing; they were breathtaking. Quite literally; she let out a little gasp, enough for Lucifer’s wings to twitch and for him to shoot a worried glance at her, but she shook her head and mouthed _I’m fine_ . And then, with a wide-eyed gesture at his wings, added _WOW_. He smiled ever so slightly back at her and stood up a little straighter.

The smaller feathers closer to his body were shorter and fluffier, like the one she still held in her hand, while the bigger ones along the trailing edges, which she thought were called flight feathers ( _flight!!!!!_ ), were much longer and stiffer; in fact much longer than her arm. And they shone too, with a faint light, as if each and every feather had a distant star inside. With every small movement he made there was a corresponding adjustment in his wings, moving easily and naturally and clearly very much a part of him.

Chloe reached up behind him and rested her hand on top of his right wing, lightly smoothing the small feathers there. She marvelled at the feel of it - so warm and alive, and _real_. The bones beneath were light, the feathers delicate, but she could sense the power in the limb in the play of muscle and tendon beneath her fingertips. Her hand almost buzzed with it.

He stood patiently, enduring it as well as he endured most other physical contact with her; with a degree of bewilderment; he always acted as though he had no idea what hugs were for. Well, maybe he didn’t. It occurred to her that she hadn’t asked if she could touch them.

“You don’t mind...?”

He shrugged. “Why would I mind? It’s just another appendage.” Then he smirked.

Chloe rolled her eyes, waiting for the inevitable smutty innuendo - _try_ this _appendage next, why don’t you, Detective…_ but none came. He was just watching her, seemingly having thought better of it. Pity - she might have actually taken him up on it this time; nothing like an intense experience like nearly getting yourself killed for messing with your brain chemistry and kickstarting the old libido. And while her brain might not have been broken by seeing his wings there was another body part that was feeling decidedly scrambled at the moment.

She pushed his jacket back over his shoulders, and it miraculously ( _again, no other word for it_ ) just slipped off, as if there were no enormous wings extending through the back of it. But they were solid, she’d felt them! Feeling like she was back in a dream, Chloe went to undo the top button of his shirt. He stopped her, wrapping her hands in his, and she looked up at him questioningly.

He gazed back at her with an unreadable expression for several long moments, then released her hands and undid the rest of the buttons and his cufflinks himself, and removed his shirt so she could continue her explorations. Chloe walked around behind him and tried to peek under the scapulars to see where his wings joined the muscles of his back. Lucifer considerately lifted his right wing, spreading it forward so she could see better.

She started a little at the movement. She knew it was part of 'him', but she still didn’t quite expect for it to be able to move like that, like it was really alive. She was still struggling to take it all in; even _with_ _her fingers buried in Lucifer’s feathers_ part of her still couldn’t believe this was real. It was all just too incredible.

She wondered how many other people knew. It wasn’t like he’d ever hidden who he was, but how much more of him must there be to know? He was literally ancient, a supernatural being, the stuff of nightmares and horror movies...

She could feel ripples of panic starting to spread, but took a deep breath and held on to his wing, feeling its soothing warmth, feeling it move as he breathed. She breathed with him.

_That isn’t Lucifer, he isn’t evil. He’s the one who punishes it._

It was still too huge, she couldn’t grasp it. But she knew the one thing she was _not_ going to do was run out of here and leave him now. Not again. Not after he’d placed so much trust in her, a regular human, by showing her like this.

_So come on Decker, get a grip. Think about something else. Focus on the details._

She was hit by sudden inspiration. “Do all angel wings glow like yours?”

“No, just mine. The name ‘Lucifer’ means -”

“‘Light bearer’.”

He nodded. “Yes. Or ‘Lightbringer’, or ‘morning star.’ There’s various translations from Hebrew and ancient Greek, but I’ve always fancied ‘Morningstar’ and I needed a last name when I came here.” He smiled and raised an eyebrow at her. “Someone did their homework.”

“You’re in Wikipedia. It came up early on, when I did some digging on you.”

 _Back when I thought ‘Lucifer Morningstar’ was just an alias. But now I find out you’re like, Lucifer,_ **_the_ ** _Morning Star. Holy crap on a cracker._

_Oh shit, was that blasphemy?_

_Did I just blaspheme?_

_Did you go to Hell for that?_

Still trying desperately not to think about it too much, she decided to keep talking.

“So when did your dad…” _you mean GOD his dad is God oh Hell there really is a God... “_ … give them back? Hang on, weren’t they stolen?”

“I tracked them down. Then burned them. Yet here they are; resurrected. I’m not sure exactly when, but they were back when I woke up in the desert three days ago.”

Chloe looked at him. “So let me get this straight. You woke up in the Mojave miles from anywhere, WITH WINGS, and you decided to _walk_ out?”

“Yes. Though I did run part of the way. First and last time, I can’t say I see the appeal...”

“For G… for Chr… for fuck’s sake, why?”

“Well, because they’re a message from Dad of course, a big feathery ‘get your arse back to work’ sort of thing. The only logical reason he’d give them back would be so that I could cross the planes and return to Hell. I had Maze -”

(Chloe: _oh shit yeah Maze, a demon, forged in the bowels of Hell to torture the guilty for all eternity… is my roommate… bookmark yet another thing to freak out about later…)_

 _“ -_ sever them in the first place because I was done with Hell and my throne, and since I was stranded with no immediate means of cutting them off again, I figured ignoring them was the next best thing. Our wings come with a price, Detective; unquestioning servitude.”

“But then you used them anyway, tonight, to come get me.”

“Yes, well, you were in mortal peril and there was no time to do anything else. If I hadn’t had my wings, you…” Lucifer trailed off, blinking.

“That’s another thing. How did you even know I was in trouble?”

Lucifer didn’t seem to have heard her.

“Lucifer? Hey. Earth to Lucifer.”

He frowned, his eyes unfocused, and continued slowly and quietly, as if thinking aloud. “If He hadn’t given me back my wings, I wouldn’t have heard you, and... and I could never have gotten to you in time. I certainly wouldn’t have been able to heal you.” He looked at her in shock.

“That, plus the fact He appears to have made me whole again… perhaps Linda was right. Maybe they _are_ a peace offering. Perhaps I can be my own man after all.”

She poked him. “What are you talking about? And what d’you mean, you _heard_ me?”

He shook his head as if to clear it, then answered her impatiently. “You called for me. When you were pinned down behind the shipping container surrounded by baddies and getting your spectacular assets shot full of holes.”

“Wait, what? So you _can_ read minds? When we first met you told me you couldn’t!”

“Well no I can’t, but since I got my wings back I _can_ hear prayers again…”

“Now hang on just a minute, I wasn’t praying to you! I wouldn’t even know _how_ to pray!”

“No, technically you weren’t, but you were thinking directly about me, weren’t you? And I was thinking about you, so the call connected, I suppose you could say. It’s a moot point now though isn’t it? I heard your desperate plea and went to assist.”

 _Holy shit,_ Chloe thought to herself. _I’ve got Satan on speed dial._

“So how does it work? I just… think of something at you and you hear it?” _This is easily the most surreal fucking conversation I have ever had_ . _And I have an eight year old child._

“Yes.”

She held his gaze for a long moment, then, remembering what she’d seen him do once at the precinct, she placed her hands together in front of her and closed her eyes. For the first time, she prayed to an angel, and he heard her loud and clear.

_Testing, testing. Lucifer, you’re still an ass._

He burst into delighted laughter. If the Detective could retain her sense of humour in all of this, not to mention be comfortable calling the Prince of Darkness an ‘arse’ - right to his face, no less! - this revelation hadn’t broken her. He felt an enormous sense of relief and a lightness in his soul, as if a load had been lifted that he hadn’t even realised was there. He lightly rolled his shoulders to fold his wings snugly to his back, then sat back down on the couch, still snorting.

He shook his head. “You really are taking this incredibly well. Why is that?”

She laughed and held up her glass. It was empty. “No doubt this is helping.”

Lucifer nodded and dutifully topped up both their drinks. They clinked glasses again, and then Chloe took a long deep breath and released it again, slowly.

“I guess, really, I wasn’t completely blindsided by it, I mean it’s not like you haven’t told me and I haven’t seen you do some crazy stuff. And like I said, I know _you_. The bigger picture stuff, well... there’s still a lot of reaction to come, I’m damn sure about that.” She took another sip.

“I think I’ve been in denial for a long time about the weirder things I’ve seen around you, and you’ve really just put the pieces together for me. Which is something I really should’ve done on my own, considering I’m supposed to be a detective. I guess I should’ve paid more attention to my inner Sherlock.”

“Your inner what?”

“Sherlock. Holmes?”

Blank look.

“Famous fictional detective? Said once you’ve eliminated all other possibilities whatever’s left, however batshit crazy, must be true. I’m paraphrasing.”

“I see. Must’ve missed that one. Though to be fair, you never considered the existence of the Devil a possibility in the first place, so you get a pass.”

Chloe hummed in agreement. “Thanks. I still feel like an A+ asshole, though.”

“Never.” Lucifer said chivalrously.

Chloe squirmed a little. “That’s nice of you to say, Lucifer. But I really was a massive jerk to you last night. After all my telling you you could trust me, that I’d understand whatever it was, when you finally did confide in me I completely betrayed that trust.” She looked down at her glass, twirling it in her lap.

“I even hit you. Lucifer, I am so, _so_ sorry for not believing you, and for running out on you.”

Lucifer looked at her in wonder. He’d scared the living daylights out of her and completely shattered her worldview - life would never be the same for her now - and here she was apologising for getting upset about it. He still couldn’t believe someone with such a pure soul could see anything worthwhile in a creature like him.

“Uh… I appreciate the sentiment, Detective, but I must accept my share of the blame. I could have handled things better. I should have remembered you can be just as intractable as I am, and I should have had a better backup plan. I can be a little… impulsive at times.”

Chloe nearly choked on her drink. _No shit, Sherlock._ But his comment made her curious.

“So why were you _now_ all of a sudden so determined to prove who you are? After all this time of letting me believe it was just smoke and mirrors?”

Lucifer sat up a little straighter, like he was bracing himself for something. “I realised you had the right to know the truth about me. So you can make an informed decision.”

“A decision about what?”

“About whether or not you still want to be my friend.”

His voice was neutral, but Chloe could tell he was scared; it was written all over his face. He was genuinely worried she’d tell him to take a hike, after _everything_ they’d been through and the immense trust he’d placed in her by revealing his identity. Forget he’s an angel, forget he’s the Devil. In the end, it didn’t matter _what_ he was. All that mattered was _who_ he was. He was her best friend, and that was all she needed to know.

He got past her armour like no one else could. He also pissed her off like no one else could, but he’d always been there for her when it _really_ mattered. And besides, how could he be expected to know all about human relationships with only five years’ experience? Plus factor in the minor detail that oh yeah, _he wasn’t actually human_. All things considered, he’d changed a lot for the better since she’d first met him, and she thought he was doing really well.

Lucifer frowned uneasily at her silence. “Are you trying to think of a nice way to say no, because I’d really much rather you yelled at me …”

Chloe cut him off with a ‘zip it’ gesture and smiled reassuringly at him, putting her hand on his knee. “Don’t be an idiot, Lucifer. You’re not getting rid of me that easy.”

Lucifer’s eyebrows went up. “Really?”

“Really.”

Lucifer smiled then, an enormous smile that crinkled the corners of his eyes and lit up his entire face. And that wasn’t just a metaphor; he seemed _literally_ radiant, although she could be imagining things… she stopped herself. No. No more of that. He _was_ brighter. She could see it.

She might ask him about it later, but she suspected why. Somehow it was because he was happy. She grinned back at him - this was so totally bananas! He was like a 6’3” glow-in-the-dark mood ring. With wings.

“Lovely!” he said, clapping his hands on his knees. “So we can get back to work now, and you’ll - “

“Oh, _shit_!” Chloe exploded suddenly, gazing at him in wide-eyed alarm.

“What’s the matter?”

“The bust! I left the scene! I disappeared in the middle of a goddamn firefight!”

“Your colleagues don’t know that. They didn’t see me take you, I made sure of it.”

“Well I’ve still got to get back there, and... explain... _something_!”

Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Well I’ve experienced firsthand your considerable gift for rationalising things but even you won’t be able to explain away _this_ ,” he said, indicating her ripped and bloodied jeans.

Chloe looked down at herself, chewing her lip thoughtfully. “No.” She got up and hurried towards the balcony, not noticing the sudden gust of wind that fluttered the curtains out the door.

“Do you think we could stop off at my place on the way?”

He didn’t answer, so she turned around and… he was gone. What …?

“Lucifer?” Chloe looked around the penthouse, then went out onto the balcony. She looked out at the LA skyline, scanning the night sky, and couldn’t see him anywhere. Where the Hell had he got to now? With his wings back it looked like it was going to be even harder to keep tabs on him, even if she went through with her threat to put a bell around his neck.

Lucifer suddenly reappeared, dropping out of thin air above her. The powerful gusts of wind that heralded his arrival seemed familiar somehow, but she barely noticed in her awe at seeing his wings in action. The muscles in his back, shoulders and chest bunched and flexed, his wings beating powerfully and turning the balcony area into a mini hurricane. Her hair streamed out behind her and the potted palms whipped back and forth in the gale. He backwinged a couple times then landed lightly in front of her, where she stood in open-mouthed amazement. She couldn’t see herself _ever_ getting used to that, no matter how many times she saw it.

Meanwhile Lucifer tucked his wings to his back with studied casualness and held a bundle out to her.

“Here. I took the liberty of popping over to your flat and getting you another pair of jeans. They’re not exactly the same, but I doubt anyone will notice.”

Chloe pulled herself together, took the proffered jeans with a mumbled thanks and sat on a chair to take her boots off. She asked, “How did you get there and back so quickly?”

“I’m able to travel much faster by myself; human bodies aren’t built for travelling between planes of existence. Or through walls and ceilings for that matter. If people were telecoms celestials would be high speed wireless broadband while humans would be two tin cans and a piece of string.”

“Gee, thanks.” Chloe was about to fire back a suitable rejoinder when something suddenly clicked into place. The gusts of wind, the sudden disappearance... “That’s how you got out of Lux when that idiot rookie shot you.”

“Well yes, but it wasn’t me doing the heavy lifting that time. That was Amenadiel.”

 _Amenadiel. That’s right, his brother, which would make him an angel as well_. Chloe breathed deeply. Wow, as much as she’d learned about Lucifer and this whole other world he came from, she suspected it was going to take a while for her to get completely up to speed.

She shook her head, distractedly unzipping her jeans, then stopped, because Lucifer was watching her with open interest. Chloe gave him an exasperated eye roll and made a circling motion with her index finger. _Turn around_. Lucifer rolled his eyes, smirking, and turned to look over the railing. He kept talking while she hurriedly peeled off the tattered remnants of her jeans and put on the clean ones.

“While I was at your place I had to dodge Maze; she’s got very sharp hearing and even sharper knives, and she’s not exactly happy with me at the moment. She was rather pissed off at me when I told Linda about us so my telling you will no doubt upset her too, fair warning. Could you talk to her, tell her you’re all right? And tell her to pretty please, bloody well answer my calls?”

“Sure, Lucifer, and who knows, she might even listen to me. And when you say Linda, I assume you mean shrink Linda? She knows about you?”

“Yes. A number of weeks ago she said she couldn’t be my therapist any more if I didn’t stop talking in metaphors. So I showed her they weren’t.”

Oh yeah; during the ‘Yoga Massacre’ case he’d been annoyed at her for telling him to talk to someone... because he’d ‘broken his therapist’. Poor Linda. Chloe now knew what having that particular rug pulled out from under you felt like. At least knowing she had someone else, another... _human,_ to talk to about all of this was comforting. God only knew how Linda had managed.

 _Oh God,_ she thought _, I’ve really got to stop saying ‘God’… if it works like Lucifer says, He could actually be up there_ listening _._

Meanwhile Lucifer was chattering on. “You passed out for a bit, so I can fill you in on the stuff you missed on the way back to the docks. All you’ll need to do is a bit of creative editing. By the way, would you like a mint? I’ve been told - by you - drinking at crime scenes is frowned upon.”

Chloe self-consciously checked her breath.

“Meanwhile when I get back I’ll have my own sitch to deal with downstairs. I left in quite a hurry.”

She gaped at him. Surely he didn’t... “You took off from the middle of Lux?”

He shrugged, his wings too. “It was an emergency. I did think to blow the lights and cameras first…” He indicated over the railing to the street below, where Chloe saw a huge crowd of people were milling around on the sidewalk, and a fire truck, ambulance and patrol car had pulled up. And was that… the bomb squad? Just what the hell did he _do_?

After a quick trip to the bathroom to wash the blood from her hands and face,  freaking out only slightly in the process, and to rub a bit of toothpaste over her gums, Chloe looked herself over in the mirror and grimaced.

 _Nope_.

Lucifer called from the living room, “Well this is a first! I’ve still got a bit of a buzz going. After only two whiskies! Must be because you’re here.”

Chloe yelled back, “Huh? What’s that got to do with it?” He didn’t answer for a few seconds.

“Ah - I’ll explain later.”

Hmm... okay then. She came out of the bathroom and eyed him critically. He’d put a clean shirt on and looked his usual well-groomed self, albeit winged, and with slightly - and endearingly - windblown curly hair.

“Are you okay to fly? Friends don’t let friends fly drunk, Lucifer.” She blinked. _I really just said that, didn’t I?_

He made an impatient sound and swept her effortlessly into his arms. “Yes, don’t be silly, I’m perfectly fine. Though I _would_ like to do some experimentation drinking with you at some point - I’ve never been able to get shitfaced before and now I think I can. It’ll be fun!”

Chloe smiled and raised a challenging eyebrow. “I can probably drink you under the table.”

His eyebrow lifted in reply, and that oh-so-familiar devilish grin was back, completely at odds with his quite literally angelic appearance; both were doing strange things to her insides.

“There’s a number of other fun things you could do to me under the table, Detective. You know, while we were down there. Or across the top of it, it’s all good.”

Chloe laughed. Yes, still the same old Lucifer. She was currently in the arms of an angel, who was also the Devil, and her world was completely upside-down, yet somehow everything was also just as she wanted it.

Lucifer bounced her slightly, still grinning. “Ready for liftoff?”

Chloe nodded enthusiastically, then looked over the railing and suddenly seemed to realise that Lucifer was about to jump off a sixteen storey building with her. She squeezed her eyes shut and tensed, unconsciously grabbing the front of his shirt.

_This is insane! Ohmygod we’re so high up… I don’t wanna nearly die twice in one night!_

She took a deep shuddering breath and gasped out, “You don’t fly like you drive, do you?”

Lucifer chuckled into her ear, his warm breath tickling her neck.

“Detective, I’ve been flying a lot longer than I’ve been driving, and you’ve already done this once. If you like, just keep looking at me - I won’t let you fall. You trust me, don’t you?”

Chloe’s blue-green eyes met Lucifer’s dark brown ones and he felt her relax against him. She spoke softly but with great certainty, a shy smile curving her beautiful mouth.

“With my life.”

At her simple admission something inside Lucifer’s chest expanded; he knew she made him vulnerable but still - he felt ten feet tall and armour plated. Like nothing could stop him. He felt like… like… Superman. Minus the undies on the outside, of course.

He spread his wings, beaming when Chloe’s eyes widened admiringly. He’d thought he could never feel happy about having his wings back but since Chloe liked them and Dad didn’t seem to want anything … maybe he could keep them this time.

He hopped up to balance lightly atop the glass balcony railing, his wings out for balance, holding Chloe easily.

Meanwhile, Chloe was picturing what the two of them looked like perched on the railing and had a random and completely hilarious mental image of Lucifer balancing on a power line like a giant cockatoo. She covered a slightly hysterical giggle with a loud cough. She was just hoping that no one on the street was looking up at that particular moment when she looked down again and let out a nervous squeak. The Devil gave her a little reassuring squeeze.

“I’ve got you, Detective. Shall we?”

She smiled and nodded. And he dove forward, his wings catching the air and bearing them quickly away above the lights of L.A., her cry of delight carried on the wind.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- "Goober" I remembered from 'Moppy' Oppenheimer (Tom Ellis’ fiancee)’s Instagram. She called Tom one - I’d never heard that word used to describe someone as a goofball before, but I love it! I'd always thought goobers were a kind of American peanut.  
> -’Michael Bolton’ is an oblique reference to the show Tom Ellis did right before Lucifer: Rush. His character loved cheesy music :) It was a great show and he was fantastic in it, and while it deserved much more than one season, I’m rather glad it got canned because it meant Tom could become Lucifer!  
> -In this story I’ve made it so’s that Lucifer has to fly with Chloe without any teleporting or phasing through walls or passing between planes etc, just because I wanted the scene with her rousing during his rescue flight. In the show though, I’m kinda hoping she can zip around with him wherever despite her 'fragile human body'. I hope we see that some day!  
> -Lightbringer Luci being a shiny happy glowy person is a nod to Neil Gaiman’s novel Stardust, where Yvaine, another ‘star’, does the exact same thing when having happy thoughts :)
> 
> And it's done! Thank you everyone who read, kudosed and commented, and thanks especially to PokerFace84 for all of her invaluable help! You ARE a great beta, Pokey! ;)  
> I've really enjoyed writing a longer fic and I hope to extend the story, but it won't be soon. End of year is always crazy... but weekly Lucifer inspiration starts again tomorrow night so who knows?

**Author's Note:**

> \- This fic came about because of that incredible final scene from season 2; it's only a minute long but I found myself so obsessed with the image of winged Lucifer standing there staring up at the sky that I had to fic it to try to get it out of my system - my way of sorting through theories and possibilities for next season. It’s also partly a reaction to some extremely frustrating comments of people in a Lucifer FB group speculating about what it all means when it seems apparent they hadn’t actually been paying attention to the show. (For example: in season 1 he burned his real wings, not the fake ones, he does not now have a ‘spare’ set! He said to Maze ‘This is where I have to be now’ which he wouldn’t have said if it wasn’t true, Maze found a feather at the beach cleanup which was able to heal Amenadiel, etc etc)
> 
> Hope you like! And if you have any theories as to the who and the why (and you aren’t planning to fic it out yourself) please illustrate them in the comments!


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